


Fortune Unlooked For

by sparklight



Series: 13 Fortunes of Spring [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bigotry & Prejudice, Cat/Human Hybrids, Catboys & Catgirls, Developing Relationship, Fantastic Racism, Hate to Love, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Opposites Attract, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Slow Burn, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-05-13 04:57:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 97,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19244281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: Far from home and following his curiosity about a past most other species would pretend feli does not have, Juri finds an enchanted treasure in the hands of a man who shouldn't have it, and a very surly feli chained up in a closet. Despite the attitude he's given, and continues to be given for a good long while after, Juri helps free him, and they try to escape the country together, all the while Juri tries to pretend heisn'tcarrying a magical artifact hidden in his bag.Because it belongs to the feli population Dima belongs to, and he doesn't know if he trusts him enough to give it to him, and heknowsDima would take it if he knew. But what else is he supposed to do with it?A good question.Better one; what is he supposed to do aboutDima, aggravating asshole that he is?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first original piece I've written in _years_ , and it feels pretty amazing to have written a complete original fantasy romance novel. It's all finished and I'm writing the sequel currently; I'm working on editing this, so hopefully there should be a chapter every week until we come to the end!
> 
> (As an addition; the explicit rating is mostly/only for the sex that's focused to chapter 15, with some more in chapter 16.)

Kurrata glowed like a golden rose under the early summer sun, though there was a curious activity on the fields that seemed misplaced so early in the season. It gave Juri something to look at as he walked the roads, to be sure, but it tickled his curiosity too. Which was unfortunate, since his proficiency in the local human dialect wasn't quite up to scratch. All he'd been able to gather before anyone who'd indulged his awkward questioning lost patience, was something about “summer storms”. A glance up to the clear, nearly cloudless sky above him made the idea of storms rather ridiculous. Storms? Here, when the weather was like this? Apparently, however, these alleged storms were supposed to be vicious enough that Kurrata, as well as the surrounding countries, had parted their sowing and growing season into two. A shorter spring to early summer season, and a longer one for the summer to autumn, with a late autumn planting to lay quiet until spring.

Reasonably, they must happen, but the wind was sweet and the air dry and warm; there'd barely been any rain since he got here, and that was over a month ago. The confusion, and the activity on the fields and in the towns he passed, gave him something to think about while he walked, looking for any traces of the past as well as music to learn. 

Not exactly _Kurrata's_ past, but rather what had been here before Kurrata existed. Pausing under a tree next to the road, Juri sat down and unearthed his lunch, squinting out at the fields. The land was still relatively fertile here, but he'd already noticed the changes compared to how things looked around two days north; the yield of the harvest the farmers were working hard on getting out of the fields wasn't as plentiful, for no obvious reason. The grass was thinner, drier, here, and the wind carried a hint of stark dryness that had nothing to do with how far south they were, or the desert far to the west of here.

It was a dryness that didn't belong, because by all accounts the land should be as fertile as it was further north. There shouldn't be a desert here, and there wasn't, not really.

The land Kurrata stretched over had once been lauded in songs and history as one of the most fertile places on Golden Abode, but the southern parts had been teetering between subsistence and hard-scrabble desert bareness for ages, and the difference between fertile and dry, wasted land was like the stroke of a knife further south. Human stories said the climate had changed, the two large rivers changing course just enough over the ages.

Juri finished his lunch, packed up, and continued down the road, full and with his tail in a jaunty swing behind him. Half an hour later he paused by a waystone, squatting to peer at it. The newest lettering, even that decades old, and renewed several times further back than that, that marked the distance between the last city he'd left and the next town couldn't hide what was below. Not completely, for eyes sharp enough to pick it out. Trailing his fingers over bumps and dips almost completely worn out - by wind and chisel both - Juri found himself smiling, excited even for such a bare proof.

For where human history said one thing, feli songs said another. Humans would claim this wasn't _lettering_ , or that the stone (and the road, for that matter) wasn't old enough for anyone to have bothered to mark out distance between whatever settlements might have existed. Humans liked to claim feli had never had kingdoms at all, but this waystone was one of the proofs they _had_ had kingdoms once, just as the struggling land around him was proof as well.

Once, there'd been a country here, stretching far south-east of Kurrata's eastern borders into the wastelands beyond. According to the legends, when the feli kingdom fell under the onslaught of combined human and elven forces, magic had swelled outward from the capital and left a wasteland worse than desert around it. There were supposed to be ruins, deeper into the wastes... Juri hoped he might have enough supplies to reach even the closest, though that would definitely be the most ravaged by humans. There would probably not be much to see, there, but anything was better than nothing.

"Well, it's worth a shot, right?" Juri said to nothing more but a bird that landed well away from him, cheeped and instantly few off when he stood up, picking up his bags again - and had to hurry off the road at the noise of a whip crack slashing through the air and, what he'd been far less prepared for, the tip of the whip smacking into the ground right behind his feet.

" _Move_ , you mangy cat!"

Hopping away, ears pinned back, Juri huffed and gathered himself. Looking away to hide his eyeroll, Juri took another few careful steps away from the side of the road and deeper into the weeds and grass struggling up from the dry ground. The man on the horse scowled at him, whip still half-raised, but lowered it as he reined his horse in and took it back to the middle of the road. Not about to stop any more than necessary to discipline a stray, and foreign, feli for the very terrible crime of not even being in the way as the party passed him by.

By the looks of it, it wasn't a merchant caravan but rather seemed more like a noble's entourage. He'd seen enough of them to know the signs, even if this wasn't just another country, but a completely different continent. The signs were still the same, really. What made this one harder to watch and left Juri shifting uneasily from foot to foot, tail flicking restlessly behind him, was the number of feli among the guards and human servants. Feli with collars and slim, but definitely solid, cuffs on their wrists. It reminded him that doing this, being _here_ wasn't exactly safe. _Of course_ a place where they'd once been in power was one of the countries feli were worst off today.

Biting his lip, Juri watched the procession slowly jingle and creak past him. The noble it was all about found somewhere in the middle of the procession, the carriage drawn by three solid black horses and more decorated than the two supply wagons in the back. There was also, for some reason, a couple feli walking around it, carrying large fans. The noble wasn't even sitting exposed to the air!

Frowning, Juri turned away, planning on sitting down until the entourage was far enough away he wouldn't have to walk the rest of the way to the nearest inn for the evening while eating the entourage's dust _or_ look at it at all, but froze. Head whipping around, Juri squinted into the harsh afternoon glare. He could have sworn he'd seen something way too pale for it to be the feli around here, but the noble's wagon was now firmly in the way, and when it'd passed, horses, men, and the supply wagons blocked any further sight, if he'd actually seen anything. Watching them wind their way down the road past him for another few minutes, Juri grimaced and then finally _did_ sit down, pulling his flute out.

He could afford to lose an hour or two, as the inn he was aiming for was close enough that if he walked his usual pace, he'd have arrived a couple hours before the evening meal. Now, he might arrive with it underway, and while that would mean ignoring his stomach for potentially earning some money and his stay, that was fine. It was a fine day, after all, the faint breeze tugging on his curls and brushing ghostly fingers through the fur on his lower legs. 

It was just a little hard to enjoy it, and the music, when he kept remembering almost having his heels snapped by a whip, and the collared feli in the entourage. Even if they weren't the _only_ enslaved feli he'd seen since coming to Kurrata, just the most recent, it didn't take away the cold lump in his stomach.

Finally, though, Juri put his flute in his case and put the case in one of his bags, swinging both of them over his shoulders and set off again. He couldn't even see the dust from the entourage in the air any longer, and he hoped it stayed that way. 

It did, at least for several hours as he walked through rolling hills, the road cut flat through them with no regard for the elevation of the land, leaving him walking in partial shadow and the cut-away, eroded sides of hills rising up one or both sides of him from time to time. The sparse grass grew sparser, but more than that, he slowly stopped seeing lizards, insects, and the small fluffy-tailed rabbits that sometimes had be seen darting from one burrow to the other earlier. There were still birds in the sky, for now, which was immensely comforting, and he could see villages stubbornly still dotting the land. The only thing growing by now, though, seemed to be what had been planted, and what was being cared for by human or feli hands.

Four hours later, he reached the inn he'd been hoping to get to, and, unfortunately, found the entourage there as well. The wagons were neatly parked at one end of the hard-packed ground in front of the inn, and the stable was bustling with activity, though the front of the inn seemed otherwise somewhat passable, as clearly most of the unpacking had already happened. Even so, Juri decided to go around to the back. Sometimes it was better to do that _either way_ he'd noticed, even when the front wasn't busy.

Brushing the dust off his shirt, he tugged on the hem of it to even its fit out and tossed the long tail of his hair back over his shoulder to thump against his back instead of having it trail down his chest. It didn't look _much_ neater, but it was worth a try. A try which took him fifteen minutes of both struggling with the language and first being assumed to belong to the noble's entourage despite his clothes, then a drifter (well, technically not _that_ wrong), and, finally, as the proprietor's veiled figure took the cook's place, probably just considering him an annoyance as she shook her head at him.

"We don't have any work, you know. This isn't a busy thoroughfare."

Biting down on a sigh, Juri pulled out another smile.

"I'm not looking for _that_ kind of work," he said, and then realized he'd chosen the wrong phrasing by the way her expression changed into a twist of her mouth fighting with an eyeroll of supposed understanding. Stuffing down an embarrassed wince, Juri shook his head and quickly continued; "and not looking for _any_ other sort of work either, I was wondering if I could play, for food and a night in the stable."

He knew better than to ask for a room, even if the inn wasn't now stuffed with the noble's entourage. His obvious foreignness thanks to his clothes and accent, despite that the shade of his skin made him look nearly local otherwise, freckles and red hair notwithstanding, helped more than hindered. He wasn't just another feli, he was a _foreign_ one, which often gave some pause to a lot of people he met. Juri wasn't sure if he should feel guilty for taking advantage of that or not.

"... Play?" Thankfully, she sounded interested rather than dismissive, the softened square of her jaw easing from its disapproving tension, and her expression opened up further when he fished out the flute case, cracking it open enough to show the three pieces of the flute inside.

"Never have much luck gambling, so yes, this sort of playing," he said cheerfully, if lacking any teasing to make the remark even lighter. He'd noticed that often didn't come across well, here. So while it certainly wasn't easy to keep his mouth in check, it made for slightly less... problems, when these humans didn't think he was being insolent. The last few weeks had been exhausting, honestly. It wasn't this hard back on Spears' Rest, even further away from the Pot and its highly integrated and varied population and prejudices still being flung around.

"If you pop anyone's eardrums, you're out with nothing," the proprietor said, sturdy, work-worn hands on her hips, cocking her head to gesture him inside, "but if you know any local songs at all, the soldiers will probably be drinking more, and if you can toss in anything foreign, His Highness will probably be easier to keep happy."

It was nearly a surprise to hear the very careful and quickly smothered sneer aimed at someone else but _him_ , for once, and Juri would more than gladly take it as he went inside, following her.

"You may as well eat now, so you don't have to stop later," she said, gesturing to the end of the loaded table used to preparing food, and Juri could hardly complain about _that_. He'd rather play on a full stomach than have to wait until midnight and eat it cold. For once, though, he didn't have to do that, and ate, if not leisurely or a feast, well enough, before he moved out into the common room, a few scattered travellers not belonging to "his highness'" entourage now pushed together onto a single table, the rest being occupied.

Juri decided not to look towards the end of the room where there'd been more space made by pushing other tables further away and together, just planted himself by the currently-dark hearth, pulled his flute out, and let himself fall into the music instead of his surroundings.

He hadn't yet had the chance to learn many of the local songs, but he had a couple - fewer if you discounted the two feli songs he'd managed to have someone teach him in passing, quietly and without the flute out - and he knew them _well enough_ that his practising them would be entertaining on its own. He learned quickly, and already there were no stumbles as he went through a harvest song, familiar in form if not in tune, bright and calling. It was meant to keep people working, but at the moment it worked more to keep the soldiers of the noble's entourage _drinking_ , as they stopped paying attention to him and just _listened_. That, if nothing else, was really the greatest compliment. It wasn't _him_ that was important here, after all, it was the music.

He threaded songs more familiar to himself in among the few local ones, which made the repeats of those, if not less obvious, at least less grating, and it made the buzz of barely-familiar language around him smooth out into something that _could_ have been in an inn closer to home.

"Hey, you!"

Twitching, Juri lowered the flute and looked up and around, finally spotting the man who'd called him. Cocking his head and angling his ears, Juri smiled without thinking about it.

"Yeah?"

There was a short, shifting glance between the people at that table, then the same man turned back to him, frowning, but not looking _disapproving_.

"I have a song. If I whistle, can you play it after?"

"Go ahead," Juri said, his ears perked now, and he leaned forward a little to keep focus on the strong, if slightly jerky, tune being whistled. Military march, he thought, which wasn't unexpected. Mentally filtering out the man's stumbling and when he caught his breath, Juri closed his eyes to listen, but he opened them again and looked around, his ears still turned towards the soldier.

There was...

Across the room, Juri met, and then quickly looked away from, the stare of the noble whose entourage was filling the inn's common room. He suppressed a shudder and picked up his flute again, focusing his thoughts back on the music he'd just heard, but the expression he'd caught - the one he could now still _feel_ , unable to ignore it even if he wasn't looking that way any longer - had slithered down his spine like ice. Not because the rough, clean-shaven features on the smoothly bronzed face had been excessively hateful, or at all lustful. 

All he'd seen was the piercing stare of someone picking apart something they thought _interesting_.

A map for your convenience:  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We introduce you to our main antagonist, and our magical macguffin.

Despite his worries, the evening ended with him going to the stable undisturbed, the moon barely veiled by the thinnest forerunners of high, dark clouds, the air dry and cold. Easily found a place to haul himself up into the loft above, and there was enough hay there to make a perfectly tolerable bed, with his own blanket between the hay and himself. He woke up earlier than he usually did, tension - and dry straw - prickling his neck. With one look out of the stable towards the inn, Juri decided he would not ask for breakfast as well. He'd eat on the road. A decision that seemed even smarter when he looked up at the sky and saw the horizon was surprisingly dark. Rain, finally, which would cool the air more but might make the road harder to walk.

Focused on making sure he had everything packed away, Juri ignored the movements around the inn, at least until one of the figures approached him. Straightening up, he felt his stomach sink. The feli was short, dark in skin and fur both, though of course in differing shades, her eyes startlingly amber. Her expression was blank and her ears and tail held neutrally as she stopped in front of him. The collar around her neck stood out against both the black fur visible over her shoulders and on her arms and legs, and the brown skin on her face and collarbones, the rest shielded by her clothes. She, of course, wore no veil.

"His Highness wishes to extend an invitation to breakfast."

Ice turned to iron, like something clamping around his intestines from the inside.

"Oh, sure," Juri said, the smile tight on his face and decidedly not answering her in the common feli dialect she'd used. Not because he didn't know it, it was just, he'd rather not watch either disgust or pity for how he sounded possibly bloom out on her face. Of course, the quick, sideways look he got for his pointed use of language, choosing his poorer skills in the local human language instead, was plenty judgemental anyway. She didn't say anything however, merely led the way back to the inn and gestured towards the pointedly empty chair opposite of the noble.

"Are you sure this is what you want to waste your money on, Your Highness?" Juri said as he sat down, deciding, perhaps unwisely, for a far more familiar approach if only because it set _him_ more at ease, if just for a second or two longer. The man, his face placid but his dark brown eyes alert, smiled and spread his hands. It was as much invitation as it was an implicit order, and Juri started to pile food on his plate.

"I'm feeling generous," he said, his voice an expanding slide of sound, a little like distant thunder. It took up space, far more than the man himself did. Up close, his dress was even finer than Juri had assumed it would be, and he felt even more unsettled - even with the man's title, he'd been sure he wasn't _that_ high up in the country's nobility. "And seeing other people indulge is an amusement of mine."

Uncertain what to say to _that_ , Juri made a soft noise of what would hopefully be taken as gratitude, and, a little reluctantly, started eating. It _was_ good food, for being served in a small inn almost in the middle of nowhere. He'd had better, but he'd also had a lot worse, and since he wasn't paying for it, it tasted even better.

"You are walking, then?"

Juri glanced up, watched the slight tilt to the man's mouth, his jaw broad and cut in a way many would find attractive. There were suggestions of lines around his mouth that revealed his expression wasn't always so pleasant, however. He already knew Juri would be walking, because even if he'd had the money to buy a mount, no one would've sold one to him.

"Yes," he said with a shrug, his tail following the motion with a flick, "I should get to the next town with another three days, I think?"

If he hadn't seen that expression last night, if there was any reason at all for a high-ranking human noble to have nothing but concern for a fellow traveller, Juri might have believed the way those thick eyebrows rose up on the smooth, barely lined forehead, the way he pursed his lips in something that could have been concern.

"Your estimate is correct, but I have to insist on offering you a ride and shelter, then. You are clearly not from here," he said, dismissively gesturing to Juri's clothes, "so you would not understand the severity of the storm coming in. You'll be hard pressed to survive out in it, and it will hit in a few hours. We should make the fort just in time."

The iron clamp on his stomach spread outwards, like chains. Not that he didn't have some ways to get out of this, since otherwise he wouldn't be here _at all_ if all he had was his flute and the sturdy knife he had in one of his bags, but... He'd rather not _have_ to go through the extra effort, and it'd only work once. Element of surprise, and all that.

"I, uh... thank you for your hospitality, Your Highness."

What the hell else was he supposed to say, anyway?

"Excellent. I'd hate to see a foreigner enjoying our country be surprised by its uglier sides," he said like Juri definitely hadn't already been at least a _little_ unsettled when he first set foot here and realized how _actually_ bad things were for feli within Kurrata's borders. He'd hoped there'd been some exaggeration in there, but instead it'd seemed worse, coming face to face with it.

Breakfast sat leaden in his stomach when he wasn't just shown to one of the supply wagons, to sit beside the driver, perhaps, but the noble (he had still not introduced himself, and Juri wasn't going to ask) instead leading him to his own carriage, making a show of gesturing him up first as the door was opened for them. He paused midstep as something thumped from one of the supply wagons, followed by the crack of a whip. He couldn't help the flinch, but swallowed his grimace sight unseen.

"I think someone didn't secure the cargo properly," was all the man said as he came up into the carriage beside Juri, expression bland like the use of a whip was nothing. To him, it probably wasn't.

They set out, and Juri leaned to peer out one of the windows, curtains not drawn all the way, to stare up at the sky. Even if he'd misunderstood something when he'd been told about the summer storms, even if they might be exaggerating, the blue-black creep of clouds was closer now, a towering wall of swollen darkness that even had some weird green tints to the underside of the clouds, and Juri silently agreed that he wouldn't want to be caught out in _that_. He'd rather just have holed up in the inn or the inn's stable, though, but going along with things at the moment would hopefully make it easier to get away _later_.

Even if he _should_ just have left during the night, but the prospect of getting caught out in the storm promised by those clouds wasn't attractive _either_. This wasn't good, but in the end it might be the best he could hope for.

"So, tell me," the noble said, and Juri _almost_ jumped out of his seat and yanked his arm out of the grip when the man reached out and snagged his wrist, turning his arm over and then back, eyeing the fur that covered the top of his lower arm up to the elbow, the skin bare on the underside, "is this because you're ill, or a half-breed?"

The worst wasn't that he sounded disgusted, or mocking. Humans _usually_ found less issue with his looks. It was such a plainly asked, nearly _nonchalant_ question, it could've been taken for idle curiosity. The light in the noble's eyes said different however, and Juri would honestly rather deal with antipathy from his kin rather than _this_ , even if the curiosity had been genuine. For asking if he was ill, though, the man had no fear of touching him, so either he didn't believe it, or thought himself safe.

"The latter," Juri finally said, curling his fingers in towards his palm, resisting the urge to tuck his legs up under him, to hide the human shape of his feet, though they were otherwise tilted forward, leaving him walking on the balls of his feet, with paw pads to cushion and distribute the weight like any feli. Luckily for him that he'd been born with _that_ , still, since otherwise walking would've been unpleasant. Couldn't help the way his ears turned back, but he could at least keep his tail laying loose and relaxed on the seat and down towards the carriage's floor beside him. Pretend at least _a little_ to not be as uncomfortable as he was.

The man hummed, his gaze wandering up his otherwise bare arms, hidden only by the short sleeves of his shirt, up to meet his mismatched eyes, then flicking sideways to his ears, and back.

"It's interesting to see one of you look almost properly human." He said it like it was supposed to be a compliment, the fact that Juri's red fur was in scattered patches, only covering his arms and back partially and properly only up to his knees before it continued in a narrow strip up the outside of his thighs and ending in a splash over his hips instead of only being bare at the palms and down his front, from face to groin. As if plenty of humans didn't find felin more than attractive enough _anyway_. "What about this, then?"

Juri twitched backwards, just a shade before he caught himself, when the noble let go of his wrist to lean forward so he could snag a couple of the red curls. He wound them around two fingers and tugged lightly, so that the light slanting in through partially-covered windows caught golden highlights. One of those thick eyebrows arched as the man watched him.

"Uh, no, that's--- that's just from my mother. Most of the family is red-headed," Juri said, half of an awkward smile caught on his face as he held himself an uncomfortable angle. 

Yanking away, as much as he'd like to, seemed ill-advised. He was also violently missing said family right now, his mother most of all. Why he'd gotten the idea to explore northern Golden Abode last year, just because his father came from _somewhere_ around here, and then got the _additional_ idea to try and find any traces of the history behind familiar songs, he didn't know at the moment.

"Interesting," the man said, with the same sort of veiled nonchalance he'd used earlier, a tiny curl of a smile on his lips. Then he let go of Juri's hair and leaned sideways to peer up at the sky himself, the intent expression turning more displeased, maybe even concerned. The clouds were now taking up more than half the sky, an army against a single warrior as the sun had not yet been covered, if barely. With a slight shake of his head, the noble cracked the door to the carriage open, letting in a wisp of wet, electrically-charged wind. "Pick up speed! I'll not be caught out in the storm!"

The door was slammed shut just as the carriage lurched forward, the horses urged to pick up their pace, and outside, there was now dark splotches on the ground while the clouds swallowed the sun like a wolf does a lamb.

*

They arrived at the fort with lightning lashing the sky and the wind driving the rain nearly horizontal. There was no way to protect from that, so even the short walk from the covered porch left the small entourage of Juri, His Highness, plus his steward and a couple servants all drenched.

"Show him to a room," the man said with a dismissive wave before he was gone, and Juri would not pretend like he didn't sigh, just a little, in relief. Wasn't like the bustle of people around didn't cover for it, after all. Following the servant, the room he was shown to was even an actual room, nothing more and nothing less, though how long that'd last... Juri pushed that thought away as the servant left, closing the door behind him and leaving Juri alone. 

The windows were streaked with water, and the glass was even vibrating a little when he got close enough to pick it up. The fort, even if he obviously couldn't see most of it from his vantage point _inside of it_ , was one central tower, with a two-storey building radiating out around it towards stables, a forge and smithy, other buildings Juri had a harder time to guess what they were from this distance and with the rain. They were up on a hill, and he was high up enough he could see the empty riverbed winding its way past the fort and curving around the bottom of the hill. How long until _that_ flooded? The rush of water would probably look impressive when it did.

The fort was pretty stark and more utilitarian than not, outside and in, otherwise. Understandable, but Juri quickly found out that the quarters of His Highness the Shahnza Baki Ar-Tumari, were plenty opulent. At least he only had to spend a couple hours in the evening with the man, as he was apparently deemed _good enough_ at his chosen trade to entertain him after dinner. Other than that, he was pretty much left alone, and spent most of the time either in his room, or wandering around.

It was just... a little uncomfortable, doing the latter. Every time he saw another collared feli, there was an urge to lift his hand and feel his own throat. None of them looked at him with hostility, but he caught a couple pitying glances when they clearly thought he couldn't see. Like he didn't know where this was heading, unless he managed to escape.

Unfortunately, escape remained illusive. With enough water being poured from the sky to fill the riverbed with flash floods a couple times in the last three days and the wind continuing to intermittently turn so you were at risk from drowning just walking between the buildings of the fort, Juri stayed put, no matter how much he didn't like it. Apparently the storms could last up to a week at a time, so no wonder he'd been warned about them. The plan, as much as he had one, as much as it was possible to _make one_ , and as unpleasant the idea was to leave without trying to do anything at all for the feli here, was to leave at the end of the week, when the storm had hopefully ended or was calming down.

Until that happened, however, he had to be patient, pretend like he wasn't well-aware Shahnza Baki had most probably no intention of letting him go, and come play for him when asked.

"Play that last one again." Baki was sitting sprawled on a divan, eyes closed and with a rather impressive spread of candied fruit on the table in front of him, considering they were practically out in the middle of nowhere. Where did any of these things _come from_? Had they seriously hauled a lot of candy with them on one of those supply wagons, just to satisfy the shahnza's cravings for sweets, if it hit? Apparently.

Starting over, Juri was interrupted almost immediately by a knock on the door.

" _What_?" Baki growled, straightening up, but the annoyance turned into a frown when he spotted the man on the other side - Juri thought he was the commander of the fort, but he didn't really know, and didn't care. "Wait here." Baki threw the words over his shoulder as he left the room, the door left ajar and the voices muted. 

The two men soon moved further down the corridor and Juri looked around idly, for the first time left alone in the shahnza's rooms. They were large and airy, with slender pillars holding the ceiling up and intricately carved screens over the windows. There were several weapons on the walls, along with drapery and shelves holding smaller, decorative things; something that looked like a music box, a veritable army of tiny glass jars Juri was pretty sure was perfume, a couple stuffed rabbits and smaller birds for some unearthly reason, and an egg.

Frowning, Juri looked back, twisting sideways in his seat to try and get a better look. It was at an angle from where he was sitting, but it looked... vaguely familiar. Throwing a glance towards the open door, Juri slowly stood up and crossed the room. The shelf the egg-shaped object was on sat at an angle where the room turned into a large alcove with another seating arrangement, a little more private than the one in the receiving area.

With another glance around the corner, Juri reached up and took the egg down. It _was_ an egg - or, well, _shaped_ like one, and it was familiar enough it felt like a punch in the gut, with how things currently were. There was no doubt in his mind; this was a fortune of spring, if a lot more opulent than any he'd ever seen. What a fortune, given for the feli new year among the feli of Spears' Rest, was doing _here_ was a good question. Turning it over in his hands, Juri rubbed the delicate ivory carefully. The shell was made in two layers, where the outer ivory layer was a lacy swirl of curves and lines, golden topazes and amber set into it. The inner layer was made of gold, and the carvings he could just barely see as he shifted the fortune around in his hands to catch the light, was both familiar and not.

Curiosity made him try to open it, even if whatever gift it'd originally contained would undoubtedly be long gone. Juri had barely cracked it open when he felt the prickle against his fingertips, the hum that settled with a restless weight in his blood. Juri froze, staring down at the fortune. Peered around the corner again, but he couldn't hear anything at all from the corridor now. So, licking his lips and flicking his tense tail, he cracked it open a little further and lifted it up to peer inside.

There was a muted glow on the inside, crawling along the walls of the enchanted fortune, and Juri shut it quickly enough there was a ragged, protesting screech as metal and ivory rubbed against each other. 

The sensation of gathered magic subsided, but it was impossible to _forget it_. He knew what this was. Basically _anyone_ on Spears' Rest would recognize one of the Thirteen Fortunes of Spring, enchanted treasures of the northern tribes. Ten for shielding, three for attack. Supposedly there was a huge lake somewhere up north that'd once been land; the result of one of the three "cannon" Fortunes.

This one wasn't that, though. It was too large, being almost the size of a newborn's skull. It didn't matter _which_ type it was, though. Even if Shahnza Baki Ar-Tumari didn't know what this was, it certainly didn't _belong to him_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daring rescue, daring escape; Juri meets Dima, and neither are particularly pleased.

Staring down at the delicate craftsmanship of the Fortune in his hands, Juri grimaced, the tension now tight in his temples. He couldn't leave this here. He _wouldn't_ leave it here. Though what he was going to do with it, where he was going to _leave it_ after getting back to Spears' Rest, he didn't know. Hopefully something suitable would come up. It wasn't a particularly good decision, but then, any decision he could make at this point wasn't good. One ear turned towards the door and the corridor beyond that had now been empty for several minutes, Juri clearly left to his own devices as Baki had left for whatever issue had cropped up this late in the evening, he looked around the room.

A scarf strewn over the pillows of the chair behind him gave him something to wrap around the Fortune, and while it wasn't really that much less conspicuous to walk around with a lump of beautifully gold-green shifting fabric under his arm, it was better than carrying the Fortune straight out of there. Feeling like the shahnza would burst into the room at any second and find him out, Juri picked his flute up with a faintly trembling hand, peered out into the corridor, and left.

Walked all the way to his room, his tail twitching restlessly behind him, like there was nothing wrong and he wasn't suppressing the urge to run. The few servants, human and feli both, that he passed didn't stop him, even with carrying something he certainly hadn't walked into the shahnza's rooms with. Maybe they didn't care, maybe some of them didn't even _notice_ (the humans, definitely). Either way, he could close the door behind him and, though he should keep moving, Juri slumped against it for a couple seconds, just _breathing_.

He still needed to get out of here though, and while the rain, still coming down with the force of a waterfall, wouldn't be any less troublesome, it'd now be both protection and an obstacle for any potential pursuers.

It didn't take long to pack, even when emptying one of the bags out to put the still-wrapped Fortune in the bottom of it, covering it with his few changes of clothing and some of the food. _Food_. Biting down on a groan, Juri hoped he might end up passing by some sort of food storage on the way out, because stocking up would be a good idea. Nothing for it if he didn't, though. Hefting the bags, he took another peek out the window and shuddered at the sight. He had to go out in that, and he did _not_ want to. He preferred choosing getting wet, and the only times he really _chose it_ was when he wanted or needed to bathe. Rain wasn't his favourite thing to get wet from.

Not that it mattered. He certainly wasn't going to try to stay another couple days with the Fortune hidden in his room, and having already taken it, any other course of action was moot. He heard nothing as he listened at the door, but when he opened it and stepped out, he walked almost straight into one of the feli slaves - the same young woman who'd told him His Highness wanted to talk to him, in fact.

They stared at each other, her pale eyes wide and startling against her darker skin, and Juri smiled awkwardly as her gaze slowly dropped to take him in, bags and all. Then she looked up, surprise turning into something more somber.

"Good luck."

It should've been a benediction, but it just made him feel guilty.

"Thanks," he muttered and they passed each other like they hadn't seen anything. Compared to the feli around, the humans were easier to hear, and thus avoid. They all wore shoes, and the patrolling guards wore armour that would've left them clinking even if they had been barefoot. At least it was late enough the only ones really up were said patrolling soldiers, aside from a few rare feli ghosting through the corridors cleaning rooms. After that first run-in, though, Juri made a concerted effort to not let _anyone_ see him. He didn't want to put lying on anyone else, having to insist they hadn't seen him.

One corridor and set and stairs at a time, sneaking into the servants' shortcuts when he spotted them, Juri worked himself lower, and then towards the back of the fort. Unfortunately, in that direction there were more soldiers around, even if most of them were sitting in rooms gambling and drinking. Pausing at the partially open door to one of those occupied rooms, Juri shifted on his feet.

Backtracking might be better.

He'd just turned around when footsteps from the direction he'd come from sounded, suddenly enough they must've come from the stairs further back, and now there was no choice but to continue forward. Gritting his teeth, he walked - not ran, though tension was practically yanking on his nerves to give in to the urge to do so - past the doorway, freezing at the shout.

"Hey! Get us some more to drink, why don't you?"

"... Yes, sir." Luckily those words were easy, the drunken soldiers paying no mind to his accent, and he hurried down the corridor acutely aware of the approaching footsteps behind him. Sure, they might assume he was one of the slaves, if they didn't look closely, didn't catch up to him. The corridor wasn't yet doused for the night, oil lamps on the walls between the doors, and it'd be _obvious_ he wasn't one of the native feli, that he was _carrying things he shouldn't_. That he was far deeper down than he'd ever gone during the last couple days.

The footsteps were still there, behind him, though they'd paused just briefly, probably by the open door he'd passed. He needed to duck out of sight for a moment, but most of the doors he tried, that he couldn't hear anything behind, were all locked. When one finally _did_ open under his hand, he almost jumped out of his skin before he yanked it open and practically leaped inside.

Shutting the door far more carefully than the adrenaline coursing through him wanted him to do, Juri slumped against it but kept an ear turned towards it. The leisurely strolling guards passed, clearly not having seen him, which was all he needed at the moment. He wasn't missed yet, and the theft hadn't been noticed yet, but yet wasn't at all. And if any of the humans actually noticed he was walking around with his bags, well... they'd hardly ignore that, compared to the feli he'd first run into.

No need to go borrowing trouble, however.

Exhaling, Juri pushed away from the door and immediately froze. There was someone else in here. That didn't even make _sense_ , as this was clearly some sort of storage room. Didn't change the fact that there was a large feli sitting, or rather, kneeling, perhaps, on the floor deeper into the room. Someone taking a break? Maybe he should just back out and leave. He really _had_ no idea what any of the feli around here might do if they saw him; he couldn't rely on them ignoring him. There also was no way for him to try to free them all, which was what he'd first imagined to do, both when he'd first arrived to Kurrata, and more recently, when Baki had picked him up. That was just imagination though, because it really wasn't something he could do, not even if he _hadn't_ currently had that extra weight in one of his bags.

"If you are done staring, I believe you have work to get back to." The shadow of the feli spoke in a deep, soft rumble that was more edged than it seemed at first, a cold sneer colouring the rolling sounds of the common feli dialect and almost hiding a vaguely familiar accent. Only almost, however, because being so far from home for months at a time made his ears attuned to picking up even the slightest bit of familiarity; the feli was from Spears' Rest.

Against better judgement, Juri crept forward, close enough even his less acute night vision could pick out rounded ears, pale, pale fur and skin and black stripes. He wasn't just from _Spears' Rest_ , he was from one of the northern tribes. They were the only ones sporting _that_ sort of colouration, not to talk about the wild traits. No wonder Juri thought he must have been kneeling at first, despite that he was clearly sitting on the floor now that he was close enough to see that. The the feli was just both tall and broad enough distance had made it seem more logical he _should_ be kneeling.

There was also a single chain going from his collar, down to each of the cuffs on his wrists, and finally attached to a sturdy ring set into the floor.

"I don't, actually," he said in the common language instead of one of the human ones before thinking better of it, wincing at the slight, inevitable slur to the words and the feli's head whipped around to stare at him. His bright blue eyes were like little points of flame in the dark room, then nearly extinguished by the way he narrowed his eyes. The bored expression on that sharp, clear-featured face with its strong jaw and high cheekbones had now turned to disgust.

"No? You look like you'd fit right in with _His Highness'_ retinue, half-breed."

Flushing, Juri bit down on familiar hurt and anger both, but couldn't do anything about the way his tail lashed and his ears pinned back before he took a breath, held it, and exhaled. He'd seen similar looks from other feli in Kurrata, if not necessarily the ones _here_ , and he saw it often enough _all the time_ whenever he left home, but that never made it any easier to deal with.

"I'm sure he'd agree with you, but I think I'm going to decline," he said, half tempted to switch to his native dialect since the feli would be from too far north to easily understand it, but he tempered that urge and continued like he'd been, "it's a little too hot for me around here."

He paused, his tentative smile of course met with nothing but that same stare as he eyed the feli, weighing his options. What sort of coincidence was it to find a feli from the northern tribes, _here_ , considering what was currently stuffed in his bag? That part fought against sullen anger that said to not offer anything, but even aside from that, the rest of him, the parts that'd wanted to be able to help even if it'd been unfeasible, was louder.

"Looks like the climate doesn't agree with you either," he said, unintentional but usual lightness creeping into his tone despite the hostility he'd been met with and squatted down, one ear turned towards the door behind him as the feli hissed, his ears pinned back very briefly.

"If I shout, you might be unlucky enough they'll come see and we can both suffer it."

Clearly his tone hadn't been appreciated, but was this one _for real_? Juri flicked an incredulous glance up through the curls hanging in his eyes as he pulled his flute case out of the bag it was in, and decided, watching the tight expression on the aristocratic face, that he really was, if only because he was the one chained down and Juri was a half-breed. The northern tribes were one of the few feli populations not disadvantaged by much of anything but the weather that far up north, and the occasional disgruntled orc army, and they held themselves superior because of that. The feli in front of him clearly couldn't stand the thought Juri might just walk out of here while he was stuck.

Well, lucky for the asshole, he wouldn't.

"If you shout, you're _definitely_ going to have to suffer the heat, and you look like you'd be liable to melt if left out in the sun too long." Juri met the glare with a blithe smile he didn't feel and a teasing tone in his voice he probably should've done a better job of _not_ using, and straightened up. Focused not on the feli but rather the lock keeping the feli chained to the floor and put the flute to his lips.

Opening locks with magic wasn't particularly hard, in the end. All you needed was the firm intention of the lock to perform one of its functions, and the right tune and _feel_. It took only two repeats of the short, wheedling little trill that was Juri's own variation on an unlocking spell for the lock to give up and click open.

Juri would treasure the wide-eyed blink he was very briefly graced with before the feli practically surged to his feet, the chain rattling as he pulled it out of the loops of his cuffs and the collar, then threw it with a clatter down onto the floor. He was taller standing up than Juri would've thought, a whole head and shoulders more, and as Juri looked from the chain to the feli, wondered now how that slim-seeming chain had been able to hold him. It didn't seem like it should have.

"Keep up, or I _will_ leave you behind," the feli said, turning on silent feet and stalking towards the door.

"Right," he muttered, quickly packed his flute back up and stuffed it back into the bag, shouldering it alongside the other. Of course the chance of a better escape was all the thank you he'd be getting from this one. Honestly, he'd take it. If nothing else, the feli would make it a lot more likely that they'd _both_ be getting out of here, if any of the soldiers found them.

The light from the oil lamps caught in the white fur, turning it rather buttery in shade but also revealed the rusty spots on the back of the gray shirt the feli wore. He didn't move as if the injuries evidenced by the blood bothered him, but Juri bet the feli would somehow manage to act as if a lethal wound wasn't the least bit of hindrance. Asking about it right now, though, wouldn't help anything, so he stayed quiet as the feli paused outside the door, looking first one way and then the other. Paused, then, not even flicking a glance his way aside from the way the tip of his tail quirked, cocked his head.

"Which way?" At least he was asking at all, though the tone of his voice was tight with displeasure.

"Right. I came from the othe---" Sighing, Juri had to hurry after the feli as he stalked off. Couldn't help himself and looked up at the broad frame in front of him, now that there was better light to see by. Rather regretted the decision, because the smooth angles and planes he'd seen in the dark hadn't made justice to the sharp-cut features, straight nose and narrow chin that the feli sported. His hair was even paler than his fur, and looked soft even as bedraggled as it was where it hung in a loose tail down to the middle of his back.

Stuffing the embarrassing flickers of _want_ deep, deep down, Juri kept his attention on the corridor behind them, but for now, it seemed no one was coming from that direction. Hopefully the guards who'd passed the door earlier would circle _around_ , and not _back_ , though. When noise did come from in front of them, it wasn't the tramp of boots and clink of armour, but rather voices talking quietly over the splash of water, accompanied by a lingering smell of food.

The kitchens.

The feli stopped, then quickly looked around, taking in the corridor continuing forward to a bisecting corridor beyond the kitchens, and then, for some unearthly reason, he turned _towards_ the kitchens. Juri clamped a hand down on his elbow and yanked him forwards a couple steps, then into what turned out to be a food pantry.

"Do _not_ touch me!" The snarl raked down his spine like claws could have, though all the feli did was jerk his arm out of Juri's grip, muscles flexing in restrained fury, and push him away. It didn't take much to regain balance, and he used the movement to turn around and propel him over to the shelves, starting to look through them.

"I'm sorry, but why did you want to go through the _kitchens_?" He was sorry, too, if only because being touched when you didn't want to wasn't pleasant, and he knew it all too well recently.

"It would undoubtedly have a door, and setting it on fire would--- What _are_ you doing?" The snarl turned into an annoyed hiss, and Juri shrugged, shooting an unthinking smile over his shoulder, ignoring the disapproving angle of the feli's ears, however slight that angle of them was.

"You want to eat, right? What I've got with me isn't going to last long with two, and we're _not_ setting fire to the kitchen!"

Not that he hadn't considered that possibility himself, to be entirely honest, but with there still being people - _feli_ too, he bet - in there, and even if they could leave before the fire got dangerous, he refused to risk it.

"Be quick, then." He didn't address Juri's disagreement, but he also didn't just _stand there_ , probably realizing himself they would get out faster if he helped. In the end, they had a couple extra loaves of bread, a respectable amount of jerky, and a small piece of cheese. Any larger would've been too heavy, and his bags couldn't hold much more, besides.

He just hoped, despite the diminishing amount of animals he'd seen as he got closer and closer to the wastelands, that there might still be _some_ animals to hunt.

As they left the food pantry, the feli flicked a glance down at him, lips thinning, but continued past the still-occupied kitchens instead of storming right into it. The right hand corridor unfortunately led to nothing more but _more_ storage, empty and not, and most of them locked, this time, but the left hand one when they backtracked, got them the empty laundry rooms... and another door to the outside.

The rain was a soft roar outside of the protection of the fort, and stepping out in it was like air made solid. There was actual _resistance_ , and within seconds they were both soaked. Juri was just glad his bags were made of oiled canvas, though with this sort of onslaught they'd start to soak through sooner or later, anyway. Winding their way past outhouses and the smithy out onto the slope behind the fort that led down to the river, there were already more sensitive spots of skin that were aching from the constant onslaught of water.

"We'll cross the riverbed, walking along it until the hill is in the way." It was hard to hear the feli's voice over the noise of rain and intermittent thunder as they half slid, half skidded down the slope, the ground half mud and crying tiny streams down towards the partially filled riverbed. Juri squinted through the rain and darkness, then glanced to the feli.

"It has _flooded several times_ already, you know!" He couldn't be serious. The feli's expression didn't change, and he gestured in the opposite direction that they were walking in, the gesture sharp and short.

"I won't risk being seen. The guards on patrol will be far more alert for things moving _outside_ than inside. You can go another way if you wish." They slid to a stop, the feli eyeing the sluggish churn of muddy water, and slowly made his way down the steep bank, stepping in without apparent hesitation. It reached about mid-shin on him, far less than Juri had thought it would, but it'd still reach higher on _him_. He didn't miss the arched look he got, despite the darkness, and with a reluctant look around, Juri followed the feli down into the shallow river.

The splash as he hit the water could barely be heard, and Juri swayed as much from the precarious footing as the rain, the wind turning to lash it straight into his face. Turning away from it, he walked sort of... sideways after the retreating figure of the other feli, mostly visible because he was pale, and his clothes the same. There wasn't much of a current, but enough that it tugged on every step, since they were walking against it instead of _with it_. On the other hand, it kept the muddy silt moving around his feet, keeping it from becoming traps that sucked even more energy.

It was hard to see how far they'd gotten, when Juri noticed the rush of water around his knees now only reached _his_ shins. Looking down at the dark water around him, Juri looked up in time to see the feli gesture towards the opposite shore. Running was out of the question as he was just as likely to fall right over as actually get anywhere faster, but the receding water set a churn to his stomach as he tried to cross against the lingering current as quickly as possible, taking a breath and jumping after the feli when he came to the bank.

Aiming for the swaying white tail above him, Juri realized he wouldn't make it and should have tried to climb.

The bank was higher and steeper, here, and he wasn't as tall as the other feli, and besides that he was also carrying two bags. Juri missed the edge of the bank by a head, and the soft layer of wet, crumbling earth the bank was now made up of didn't give him anything to dig into, to pull himself _up by_. Juri bit his tongue, and just hoped the distant roar he could pick up on meant the oncoming flooding wasn't as close as it seemed.

With grunt, Juri slammed into the side of the bank, his arm almost dislocated by the sudden stop and the grip around his wrist.

Looking up, he had a second of meeting bright blue eyes before he was hauled up, dropped onto the top of the bank with a grunt from the other feli this time. Gingerly rotating his shoulder, Juri looked up with a smile.

"Thanks---" And cut off anything else he might have said, snapping his mouth closed and suppressing a shiver as much as a frown in the face of the fury on the feli's face. That was _not_ someone who'd helped him because he cared, he just clearly hadn't wanted to be responsible for Juri dying.

Sighing, Juri followed him when he started walking again. They'd barely gotten three steps away from the bank of the riverbed when the thundering roar of another flooding crashed past them, filling the bed from end to end. He _might_ have been able to climb high enough in time, but Juri doubted it.

Aching from more than just the unforgiving fall of rain from above now, Juri paid a little less attention than he should have, and almost thought he'd lost the feli some time later. Looking around, he saw the flick of the disappearing tip of a white, black-striped tail, and turned in among the rocks strewn around the foot of the hill they'd been skirting around. It was dark, and late, enough so that, along with the rain, even he could barely see anything. A full human would've been practically blind, but thankfully now that he was paying attention again, he spotted the feli where he'd found a spot to get out of the rain, for a couple hours at least.

It wasn't really a cave, more like an overhang made from the partially shattered hillside, but it was deep enough they were _almost_ completely shielded from the cold bursts of wind, and entirely out of the rain. The air was cold and wet enough Juri was pretty sure he'd wake up still wet, if at least not completely soaked still, though.

Unloading his bags with a sigh and finding somewhere to sit, Juri made a half-hearted attempt of squeezing out his hair at least, eyeing the wet, muddy mess his clothes had become. This would be really unpleasant to sleep in, but at this point it seemed better to just keep these clothes and change when it stopped raining. He seldom got sick, so he should be safe from a cold.

"Get these off."

Looking up, Juri was caught staring blankly at the feli for a moment, who was holding his arms thrust out, but then he got what he meant. The cuffs and the collar. But... Frowning, he reluctantly scooted off his rock and came over, shuddering at the feeling of wet mud around his toes. Cautiously grabbing the feli by one wrist, he turned the arm over and shook his head. It was dark, but he could tell there was no lock on this one, and he doubted the collar or the other cuff had any either.

" _What_ are you waiting for?" the feli snapped, his ears pinned back now, just enough to be obvious but less than his tone might have suggested, and it was dark enough the only thing that really gleamed was the white from his eyes and the reflective layer in his irises.

"These don't have locks. Looks like they were welded shut?" Glancing up along enough to catch the reluctant nod, Juri shook his head again. "Something has to have an actual _lock_ for me to be able to open it. I'm sorry. I can do something about your back, though, if you ne---"

"No." The hand he was still holding was pulled out of his grip, and the feli retreated further back against the rocks he was sitting on, turning away.

Staring, Juri turned away with an eyeroll, lips pressed together. He was tempted to pull out his flute _anyway_ , but frankly, if he wanted to be stupid... No, Juri didn't feel good about leaving it alone, but if the feli thought he could handle it, he'd leave him to it. Curling up on his chosen rock, he watched the feli's sharp profile, barely seen in the darkness, and suppressed a yawn. It was late, but he was still cold and wet enough relaxing enough to sleep wasn't easy. He was also, admittedly, missing the _very_ comfortable bed he'd had the last few days.

"I'm Juri." Actually introducing himself seemed like the most straightforward thing to do, as the silence was starting to get to him. The rumble of water falling beyond their shelter only underscored the stiff quiet. The feli finally turned to look at him, but his expression didn't lighten at all. In fact it seemed to tighten a little further, the tilt at the corner of his mouth heralding the beginnings of a sneer.

"And? You don't have any other name? No one there to give it?"

Juri knew what he was asking, and felt himself flush even if the darkness as well as the warm brown of his skin would hide the evidence.

"Juri Askein," he snapped, thoroughly tired of this damn _attitude_ , but giving in to the momentary frustration didn't really change anything. It only made the soft slur when he spoke in feli dialects stronger, sticking on his tongue, and the feli merely snorted softly as he sat back. There wasn't even any satisfaction in being able to toss the fact that he had a 'proper' feli surname at him, and not a human one.

"Dima Gennady," the feli finally said, and Juri frowned, staring into a cool expression that he couldn't read. What was it with the attitude, when _he_ didn't appear to have either a matronymic _or_ patronymic surname, as was usual? It sounded closer in style to human ones, but at the same time, it was thoroughly feli; he recognized the base word well enough, though it seemed like a joke for this man to have a last name to do with _generosity_.

They stared at each other, and finally Juri found at least half of a smile, tipping his head in something of a greeting.

"Glad I could help you out of there," he mumbled, and didn't expect anything other than what he got; Dima snorting lightly and turning away again.

It was fine, he didn't care.

He wasn't under any illusion that Dima would stay for any longer than he absolutely had to. Juri just hoped he wouldn't take his things (the food, that was) and leave him stranded, but... no. Whatever the reason, because Dima sure hadn't really given him reason to think otherwise, Juri _didn't_ think he would do something like that. Why explicitly go _with_ him after he was free of the chain? He could've gathered food and something to carry it in and split as soon as they were outside.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dima and Juri don't get along so well, but with the weather turning for the worse, they'll have to work around that.

Watching the half-breed fall into fitful sleep, a frown between his eyebrows distorting the freckles speckled over his forehead, Dima considered the merit of taking one of the bags, dumping anything that wasn't at least half of the food, and leaving. The rain was an issue, but it would serve as cover, which was probably the reason Juri had been trying to leave now, too, _whatever_ the reason was he'd decided to make a break for it. He didn't care. He needed to go back. But...

Frowning, he turned to look out at the pouring rain. He had nothing of what he'd come with, since the shahnza had 'freed' him of all of his belongings when he slipped and was found. He would be recognized, now, and in this place he was, more than that, _recognizable_ as foreign as he was. With his previous plan thoroughly ruined, he needed a new approach. Further, with the possibility that Baki might come after him... and possibly the half-breed, too, depending on why he'd left at all, actually having a chance to plan would be slim, and with limited resources... Dragging a hand down his face and rubbing an ear, Dima leaned back against the rocks.

This had _not_ turned out as he'd planned. What had planned to take a month or two from one end to the other was now going on three, and no matter what he chose to do from here, he was probably looking at several more. The best solution might be to go back to more secure ground and simply start over, with a better idea of where he was going, this time. So, that left him with the option, again, of joining the half-breed, or going his own way right now, either back to the forth or aiming for the coast.

Reluctantly glancing sideways towards where Juri was curled up around himself, red hair spilling all over in a heavy, wet curtain over his shoulders and down to his waist, Dima scowled. Food wasn't the only thing one needed for a retreat to go well, and with no other resources than his own self, he was thoroughly pressed for choice. 

As little as he liked it, as much as the studiously friendly behaviour and wheedling smiles were already getting on his nerves, he should _perhaps_ wait until tomorrow to decide which course of action to take. Because as annoying as the half-breed had been so far, if he wasn't entirely useless, he could put up with it. More resources were, unfortunately, the better option, no matter how infuriating the source of those resources might be.

At least the half-breed wasn't local, which made it more probable this wasn't a ploy from Baki. He also had his mother's name, which was a slim mark in his favour. As little as he understood the desire to keep something that'd come from _humans_ , Juri had clearly been raised among their kind. It was better than nothing, as distasteful as his existence already was.

Closing his eyes, Dima tried to get comfortable, but the rain and his wet and not exactly drying clothes and fur wasn't making it any easier, and his back ached. The older wounds were almost a month old by now, and practically healed, but the one the overseer had given him yesterday had been deep, and it was tender and new still. In the end he did fall asleep, as he'd never been in the business of letting his body control him, whatever complaints it had at the time.

Waking up was still a study in discomfort, but at least it was more _chosen_ discomfort than the last couple weeks, so he stretched slowly before he opened his eyes. The half-breed was still on his chosen rock, and while he'd been asleep - or pretending to - he stirred when Dima stood up. It was still raining, but the roar was a little softer now. It wouldn't make them any less wet when they stepped out of their bare cover, but it'd be easier to walk in it.

"Here."

Turning around, he eyed the slices of bread and cheese he was being offered, crudely cut with a large hunting knife, and finally took them, sitting down again as he watched the half-breed in brighter light. It didn't really change anything. He looked as ridiculous as he sounded when he talked, with those scattered patches of fur, human shaped feet and the mismatched green and gold eyes. A little shudder went through the fur, as red as his hair, which was, surely, another sign of his being a half-breed; _most_ felin had at least _some_ difference in shade between hair and fur.

"What?" Juri looked up, and there was remarkable little tension in the voice, even if he sounded a little wary. Dima just stared flatly, eyes narrowed.

"You left at a very ill-advised point in time. Why?" If he was going to even consider dragging this one with him, he needed to know more, as little as he _actually_ wanted to listen to the softly slurred words, like Juri's throat couldn't form the sounds of the feli language more precisely. He was _almost_ tempted to tell him to use a human language instead, as that would surely suit better with the rest of him, but Dima had frankly had enough of listening to their ugly languages, no matter _where_ those humans were coming from.

"I told you, I didn't feel like being _kept_ ," Juri said, the smile brief in the face of his lack of amusement, and finally he shrugged, shifting a little where he sat and tugged on the tail of his hair where it lay over his left shoulder, "just because he was trying to be subtle doesn't mean I didn't notice what was going on. The only thing that changed was that I was going to wait another day or so more, until the rain slowed a little."

"That doesn't answer my question."

The half-breed shifted again, finally looked away, out at the rain. His tail twitched restlessly, then stilled. Juri licked his lips and shrugged. "Yesterday evening just made me realize I should leave as soon as possible. And it was better anyway, wasn't it? The rain hid us."

Dima couldn't figure out the tone, or the tension. It did not _sound_ as if he'd been violated, and from what he'd seen of Baki, he seemed to be more of a mind of wanting to _look_ , not _touch_. Not that he would wish molestation even on a half-breed, but there was still a tension in Juri's voice and body that spoke of just more than regular wariness, and he couldn't figure out what the cause might have been.

Of course, he might just be over-thinking this; it'd take far stronger nerves than this half-breed probably had to knowingly stay when you knew you'd be enslaved at first sign you were quite ready to leave. Snorting, Dima sat back and focused on his sandwich, as sad of one as it was, until it was gone and he was tucking into the second one, and looked up again. He wasn't done, unfortunately. Juri leaving while he still had a chance _did_ prove he had something between his ears, but that was no reason not to overpower him and take half of the food and leave.

"And your plan now?"

"Uh..." The half-breed frowned, ears twitching this way and that as he watched him for several seconds before he shrugged, sitting back on the rock. "I was thinking of going deeper in. Just a couple days at least, since what I bet that man thinks is that we _should_ go north, to the ports there, but he'll probably have them heavily guarded." He shrugged, head ducked as he nibbled on his own food and watched Dima an ear turned towards him. Dima was obliged to admit that the half-breed might, indeed, have enough common sense to make this _tolerable_. But...

"Going south will just end up with us on the wrong side of the mountain chain, and crossing them would take quite a lot of time, effort, and resources." He hadn't had access to a map of the region for long enough, so the names of the geography and cities eluded him, but he remembered the general specifics well enough. Kurrata was bisected from end to end by an arm of the mountains that acted as the spine of northern Golden Abode, a mountain chain that was Kurrata's southern border, discounting the Ar-Hurrn Zami desert. The half-breed grimaced as he nodded and turned around to dig through one of his bags, producing a map and offering it to Dima.

"It's the ports on this side, or going through Kushrrata. I don't know..." He shrugged, frowning out at the rain again while Dima unfolded the map and saw what he meant, the details of his earlier observance of the region refreshed. Kushrrata sat like a door in the only easily traversable pass through Shahnkush, the mountains that bisected Kushrrata, reaching from the northern coast to the southern one. The name of those mountains was apt; they really were like a wall.

"You have something between your ears at least," Dima said as he folded the map back up and handed it over, turning to finish his last sandwich, "it would take us long enough to reach Kushrrata they might be less attentive of anywhere but the port towns on this side of the mountains."

It seemed to be the best course of action, as tempting as it was to go for one of the closer port towns on this side. Depending on how eager Baki would be to capture them however, those towns would be in something near lock-down, and he, at least, was very distinctive on this continent. Would be, even on Spears' Rest, and the presence of the collar and cuffs helped nothing, either. Juri seemed to have a similar thought concerning his looks as he glanced him up and down and suddenly smiled, which left Dima working hard not to bare his fangs or pin his ears back.

"At least that means you don't have to make yourself look less presentable _just_ yet!" The half-breed's laugh rankled his nerves and he finally gave in to the urge to hiss, silencing him.

" _What_?" Dima was now regretting his decision, but it still, unfortunately, seemed like the better one. Juri, half-human as he was, still fit in more easily among Kurrata's population thanks to the shade of his skin; he could use that, too, when they got back to more populated areas. He did not have to like it, however.

"I, uh... just meant, you might want to dye your fur, to stand out l---!" The half-breed literally chirruped in startled alarm from his glare, and well he should, suggesting something like that, as if it was some sort of joke. How _dare he_? Holding the wide-eyed stare for another couple seconds, he finally turned away and finished the paltry breakfast. It was better to save the jerky as much as possible, and the bread would go bad much faster, so Juri had chosen correct when preparing it. If they were lucky, there would be _something_ to catch even in these barren surroundings. There always was.

Standing up, Dima stretched and walked up to the edge of their shelter, staring out at the rain, annoyance thick in his veins. He did not wish to drag this irreverent half-breed around, but for now, it seemed like it was the better option.

"If we _are_ travelling together, we are leaving now." Flicking a glance over his shoulder, Dima looked away when Juri quickly bent over to pack up what little he'd pulled out, his tail a graceful curve above him. "Give me one of those."

He held his hand out until he could close it around the strap of one of the bags, slinging it over his shoulder. To carry someone _else's_ luggage... he'd rather that than being slowed down because the half-breed was carrying too much, however. That didn't even take into account that Juri was _also_ short enough he'd have to use up more energy to keep up with him, even if he did have pretty impressively long legs. Either way he wasn't slowing down for the half-breed.

"Thank you."

One ear flicking towards that quiet gratitude, Dima snorted and led the way outside, squashing the urge to flinch as he stepped into the rain, just _slightly_ less than like a sheet like it'd been yesterday evening. It took longer this time to get soaked through, but it was inevitable, and the chill the rain and air carried burrowed right into his bones. Unpleasant, but there was no other choice. Taking shelter under those rocks until the rain stopped was out of the question, since if Baki decided to come after them they needed as much distance as possible between them and the fort.

They veered off from following the river rather quickly; it was too obvious a path to follow, and it seemed like it was going in the wrong direction, too. This direction _would_ take them deeper into the wastelands to be sure, but it would also be the complete opposite direction from any populated areas that they wanted to eventually circle around back to. Their (his) chosen, vaguely eastwards direction lead through a craggy landscape of shattered hills, the ground covered in a fine network of tiny streams, continually fed by increasingly cold rain.

Two hours later, the rain was slush, and their clothes definitely not suitable for the strangely plummeting temperatures. It didn't take long for slush to turn to snow, and the snow to go from barely covering the ground to reaching mid-way up his feet. His toes were now stiff with cold as it was the completely wrong time of year for the fur to have grown thick enough to protect against temperatures like these.

"Why is it _snowing_?" The half-breed, having thankfully been quiet until now, finally spoke up. Glancing to him, Dima found him walking with his head tilted back, throat a bare arch against the sky, and squinting up into the snowfall while he tried to chafe his arms to work up more warmth. "Didn't hear anything like this when I tried to do some research on this area..."

He would have left it alone, because what did it matter why Juri had done research on this cursed land? With a feli, even half as he was, from Spears' Rest wandering around one of the countries which were least hospitable to feli, Dima found himself reluctantly... interested, however. He knew why _he_ was here, and the importance of it outweighed the risks, but this fluffy-headed half-breed, who was built more like a dancer than a warrior and walked around with _both_ of his most viable weapons in his bags..?

"Why did you do research on the area?" Why was he here, he didn't ask, and he didn't look over again, just walked straight ahead while Juri lengthened his steps to catch up again after he stopped being distracted by the unfortunate weather. While there was barely any wind now, the gales from before had left growing piles of snow the further east they went, which made the progress even slower.

"This was my goal," he said, and Dima caught a small, easy shrug out of the corner of his eyes as Juri gestured around them, "I wanted to see if there were anything left of the feli kingdom that was here, before."

 _That_ was it? Dima wasn't sure whether he was reluctantly impressed or deeply _unimpressed_ , because the half-breed certainly didn't seem particularly prepared for much of anything at all.

"Why are _you_ here?"

Dima finally turned his head to stare down at Juri, his eyes narrowed in the face of the half-breed's open curiosity, the delicately-pointed ears perked forward. He was smart enough at least not to ask how he'd been enslaved, because that had nothing to do with _why_ he was here. No feli of the northern tribes left their lands under anything less than their own volition, and this being halfway across the world, it was a 'why' indeed, and not a 'how'. It was enough to spur some sort of answer out of him, even if it might not be to Juri's preference.

"Not for something as frivolous as _history_ , and especially not in a place so unpleasantly disposed towards feli, even half-breeds such as yourself. How do you expect to keep yourself safe carrying all weapons tucked away?" Dima said, perhaps unfairly but hardly about to answer the question honestly. Even if _he_ was the one who'd gotten captured in a way that'd made it next to impossible to leave under his own power, and when Juri's own capture had happened in such a way he'd had opportunity to escape easily enough. The look he caught out of the corner of his eye spoke volumes, though Juri didn't say any of what he was clearly thinking, just turned away to focus on navigating the snow-covered landscape.

They were lucky, in the end; the storm had been closer to the end of its duration when they left, so close to afternoon and with snow up to the their heels, the snowfall petered off along with the wind, and then stopped. Their breath stopped leaving clouds of white with every exhale, and far sooner than should've been possible, it was hot enough that the earlier snowfall seemed like it must have been imagination, despite that it was still covering the ground, if quickly melting.

If this was what the summer storms behaved like in the wastelands, no wonder no one had tried to settle them; the rainstorm were bad enough on their own.

The only problem with the better weather - and that was a generous description, as the wind died and the dry heat ratcheted up into something not found further west - was that Juri took his flute out from time to time over the next few days, playing it while they walked.

It wasn't that he was bad at it. Far from bad at it, Dima had to admit that much. It was that it made it harder to ignore his presence unless absolutely necessary, since while he'd at least _mostly_ stopped trying to hold conversation when it wasn't needed, this didn't require Dima's participation. He was just forced to listen as the music swung itself up into the clear, hot air, like a defiant splash of coolness against the dry weight of the sunlight. He even recognized some of the songs, even if none of them were ones he was more intimately familiar with.

He only had so much patience, however.

"Would you cease that racket?"

The current song cut off mid-melody and the half-breed lowered his flute with a sigh, the look thrown Dima's way edged.

"If you want to hear something else, you could always teach me a song or two _you_ know. I learn really quic---"

"I am not interested in teaching a half-breed culture he wouldn't understand or be able to appreciate," Dima growled, ignoring Juri's flinch and the way his ears pinned back while his face reddened, visible even under the darker tone of his skin, "you can entertain yourself again when we part ways."

Technically he would've been uninterested in teaching Juri any of the songs he knew even if both of his parents were feli, simply because he hadn't been born into any of the northern tribes. Those who preferred risking living among species that seldom respected feli instead of trying to carve out living space elsewhere were not particularly welcome among the tribes. So in a way it wasn't even personal, Juri just had an additional mark against him.

"That's--- ugh." The mutter was soft enough even Dima barely heard it, more like an exhale than actual worded exasperation, and then Juri did put the flute away, though Dima doubted it'd last for the whole trip. He wouldn't really expect it to, in the end, but at the moment he was exasperated enough momentary respite was good enough.

As Juri caught up from having had to pause to put the flute away, he looked up, frowning. Since he was looking up at the sky, Dima didn't bother looking; no pursuit would be coming from _that_ direction. Which was why he paused, incredulous, when Juri bent down snatched a rock from the ground and hurled it in a movement as quick as any feli, liquid grace and strength on easy display. The question on the tip of his tongue remained unasked at the sound of something falling to the ground ahead of them, followed by the scent of blood.

Juri sprinted ahead to pick up his kill from the ground, the smile easy and pleased as he whirled around and held up what was a dove, Dima finally saw when he was close enough.

"I see you do have some practical survival skills," he said, and it didn't matter that his tone had been bland; Juri heard what he'd _actually_ implied. It was thoroughly ungenerous, because he had literally no idea how Juri had grown up aside from that he must have stayed with his mother long enough to have her name. For the first time, he saw the half-breed lose his temper.

" _Yes_ , I can hunt! Maybe I don't _live off it_ , but I'm pretty good at it when I need to! I was taught like any other feli!" For a brief moment, the half-breed's green-and-gold eyes were incandescent with slit-pupiled fury, his tail a veritable feather duster up behind him, before he just sort of slumped and sharply turned around. He kept himself in front of Dima for the next couple hours, the smell of the dove's blood a tempting promise in the air and the only noise between them the shift of fabric and leather.

Dima would not say he was missing the music, though it seemed very silent, now.

The lack of wood made the question of cooking the dove a tricky one when they finally stopped for the evening, for while they both could eat some amount of raw meat, by the way Juri was eyeing the plucked bird, Dima would guess he could not eat enough to make it worth it as a meal without suffering for it.

"I could try something," he said, glancing up past the curls falling over his forehead, ears cocked, "if you can deal with listening to some more music." The edged waspishness of the tone was almost preferable to the studied teasing _friendliness_ he'd been subjected to so far, so Dima tipped his head in agreement. He suspected he knew what the half-breed might try, which would be interesting and give him a better idea of what he was capable of with his magic. Magic created through music was one of the most versatile skills, but it was also one of the most difficult ones, as he understood it.

A few rocks were quickly put on the ground, not as if to surround a hearth, but rather to _make one_ , and as Dima watched while Juri took his flute out, the music started slow but quickening. It cut through the air until the frantic trilling was repeating and lacing together and the air above the rocks was dancing like it'd done in the distance the whole day. Soon, the rocks were glowing hot, and the bird, after they'd parted it into pieces, frying on them.

"Useful," Dima said quietly, nothing more than honest thoughtfulness in his voice, and Juri glanced up with a hesitant and tiny flash of a smile. It was pretty remarkable how quickly he bounced back. Or perhaps the half-breed was just very eager to play nice, despite that he had done nothing to encourage it. He didn't say anything about that Juri should just stop, that no attempts at being friendly would change his mind, because at the moment that they were going to get some fresh and freshly cooked meat was worth more than being annoyed by the half-breed being annoying. As rare as actual animals were in the wasteland, he'd endure the ingratiating smiles, if not the music.

What he would like to _not_ have to endure was being filthy, and having limited resources to keep himself cleaned and groomed, but while Juri did have a grooming brush, Dima did not feel like sharing it with him. At least the half-breed hadn't done something so foolish as to suggest they trade off grooming their backs. Dima would not abide being touched by him unless he truly had to.

At least he would probably be spared the music a little longer, though not because the half-breed was still heeding his words. Rather, while the next morning dawned clear and sunny, there was a breeze, too. Cool and sharp, it tugged on the strands that always came loose from his ponytail, and Dima frowned as he turned his head to the west while he took the bag Juri had just finished stuffing bedroll into.

"I want this to be a good sign, because it feels nice, but I bet it's not," Juri said, voicing his own thoughts, and Dima grunted, one ear just barely turning in his direction.

"Keep an eye out." For clouds, for shelter. Any and either worked, though the land around them was mostly flat, with only a slight, undulating curve to it, so where they would find sufficient shelter was a good question. They'd need _something_ though, if a storm similar to the one before rolled in and, worse, if it _was_ snow instead of rain. They turned south silently, as if they both were in agreement that they'd gone deep enough into the wastelands. Turning west immediately would be useless, both because they were almost a week deep and would hardly reach whatever invisible border there was that would keep the rain from turning into snow, but it would also just take them back to the vicinity of Ar-Tumari's fort, which was the last thing they wanted.

Whatever luck they'd been given by not being overtaken by any potential pursuit, if there had been any, seemed to have run out, however. As the morning wore on, the sunlight slowly lost its warmth.

"Dima..."

Dima shuddered, unable to pick out _why_ the soft exhalation of his name in the half-breed's voice caused that reaction, but maybe it was just annoyance that he wasn't addressed properly. It was a fight not to snap a demand to be called _Gennady_ instead, or at least in addition to his name, but Dima did not feel like hearing him almost butcher more of their language, and even less a word from his own dialect. Stuffing the urge to say anything down, he did look over his shoulder towards the right, lips tinning.

"Keep walking."

The horizon was swollen with green-tinted, blue-black clouds, rising like towers against the blue sky, and the wind smelled like snow, now. Running at this point would do nothing, and the only thing around was a hill further east, indistinct with the distance. Of course, Juri pointed towards it.

"We should try that, shouldn't we?" He was squinting towards the hill, a hand shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun, not yet covered by the distant clouds. It was cold enough again every breath created a puff of white, further driving both Dima's annoyance and the sense of disappearing time.

"A hill, even on the leewards side from the wind, isn't going to be enough protection from wind, cold, or the amount of snow that will presumably fall," he snapped, and the only reason he didn't grab the half-breed by his arm and stalk off was that he'd really rather reduce the need to touch him. There was too much bare skin where there should have been fur.

"Would ruins? There's something on top of the hill."

Opening his mouth to sneer that there _definitely wasn't_ anything on that hill, Dima closed it again without having said anything, squinting towards the fuzzy shape of the hill in the distance. Juri had seen the dove, at a distance no feli usually would be able to see something to hit it well, even less as accurately as he had. Perhaps Juri being a half-breed had _some_ use.

"If you're wrong..."

"Skin me and use my hide as a wind breaker?" Juri's teasing tone was bright, leaving Dima staring, unable to quite square that glib teasing with the smiling ingratiation he'd been faced with so far. Especially as it was aimed towards Juri himself instead of outwards, used as a shield. Shaking his head silently, he turned towards the hill without answering, and Juri let it be as well. In the end, they took most of the distance half loping across the hard ground as the wind picked up, starting to yank at their clothes and hair and sending sharp-edged forerunners of tiny flakes driving past them.

They came to a stop at the base of the hill, swaying on the edge of a sharp dip in the land; the hill was surrounded by a ditch. Or, rather...

"A moat..?" Juri frowned as he looked down into it, momentarily distracted from the need to find shelter. It was dry as dust, even if they'd found plenty of small streams and pools to keep them in water, despite the otherwise dry appearance of the land around them.

" _Pole_ moat," Dima said, gesturing further away to where a couple were still whole enough to stick up out of the ground, one even pointy, "the hill is probably partially artificial and the moat was completely covered at the bottom with poles in the past. Now move."

The half-breed shuddered beside him, presumably thinking about falling into a full pole moat, but jumped in after him and they ran across it, the ground no longer uneven where there surely had been holes for the poles before, but there were still signs those few scattered ones that had survived the ages hadn't been the only ones. They had to climb up on the other side, but found the remains of a road quickly enough to not have to fight the hill itself. It was snowing in earnest as they followed the road, ruins starting to pop up partway up the hill, though they were all barely more than a spray of stones or a wall or two. Certainly not enough for any proper _shelter_.

At the top, the growing wind hit them full-force and Juri swayed, but caught himself. The place was surely all he'd wanted from coming to Kurrata, but there was no time to explore, aside from necessity; they needed a building with enough left of it to actually serve as protection, not just a wind breaker.

It took longer than he liked, running through a confusing tangle of ruined buildings and partial streets, snow gathering along the bottom of the remains of walls and fallen roofs while the wind buffeted them. Nothing seemed like it would serve as much as any shelter would with a lack of proper clothing and only Juri's bedroll to use. It would have to be enough, however. Dima finally spotted something that _might_ actually be enough for their purposes, sharply turning towards it.

"This way." Unthinkingly, he grabbed what he could reach of the half-breed, summarily hauling him across the snowy ground by his shoulder and mostly holding onto his shirt and the strap of the bag. Just as well though, since the wind picked up further just as they reached the partial doorway, turning from a loud, piercing whistle into a howl, the snow driven horizontally instead of diagonally.

They smacked into the crumbling doorframe, and Dima partially tossed Juri inside, leaving him to catch his own balance as he pushed himself inside as well. The wind was still shoving snow through the hole of a wall that was mostly gone, but Dima ignored that and waved Juri deeper, practically herding the confused half-breed through ruined doorways until they got to a part of the house where the upper floor had collapsed at some point, the walls of the bottom floor as well, creating a sort of tent made entirely out of stone and old, cement-like plaster. There was no wind, here, and while it certainly wasn't any warmer, only a few flakes of snow managed to find their way all the way in here.

The half-breed stood in the center of the small space, the bag at his feet and his arms around himself, looking around the empty ruin. There was a raised platform against the back wall, partially covered by debris, and a hollow in the floor that'd probably been a fire pit to warm the room, or the kitchen hearth, who knew, but that was all there was in here.

"Well... I guess we're out of the wind and snow, at least," the half-breed muttered as he turned to face Dima with a grimace, the smooth, rounded curve of his chin and jaw trembling slightly in the cold. There were visible goosebumps on his freckled arms where they weren't covered by fur as he tried to rub himself warm.

They _really_ weren't outfitted to hide for days away from a snow storm, but it was what they would have to do.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attempting necessary cohabitation to survive the weather, Dima and Juri rub elbows and attitudes.

There were remains of carvings, some even partially coloured still, up near the collapsed ceiling of the leaning walls, but, as interesting as that was, currently Juri was far too cold to feel like studying them more closely. He could still hear the wind, howling furiously against the walls outside, and the idea of being snowed in with Dima was a miserable one. He was unfriendly and sour in the best (well, relatively) circumstances, and now? Shaking his head, Juri squatted over his bag, having to fight with the fastenings to get it open. None of his clothing was suitable for this sort of weather since the shirts were all short-sleeved and the pants reaching no further than to his knees, but at least an extra layer would help.

Thinking of extra layers... Juri paused, holding up his shirt, and then glanced over to where Dima had pulled the thin mattress part of his bedroll out, throwing it on the raised platform. There was no way Dima would be able to fit in his shirts or pants. Pulling the shirt he had in his hands on felt like a futile effort, but he did it anyway, and the same with the pants he pulled out.

"Sorry I can't share my other change of clothing," he said, after a brief moment of hesitation, and Dima paused where he was shaking the blanket out, holding it up as if for inspection (and probably finding it wanting). The look he threw over his shoulder was unreadable, ears and tail as still as the rest of him before he shook his head.

"You clearly need the extra layers." For once, there wasn't any insulting undertone, though the words were still pointed enough it was a barb of another sort. Sighing, Juri looked down at his still mostly-bare arms; the fur barely covering even his lower arms had never looked more pathetic or insufficient as it did at the moment, with both layers of sleeves not quite reaching to his elbows. Dima was worse off, though; his sleeves were even shorter, ending barely past his shoulders, and even if he was mostly covered in fur, it was obvious his clothes were meant for warmer weather too.

They needed some other way to generate additional heat, especially with only one blanket, so Juri stood up and looked around. Spotting what he needed, he walked briskly around the room, gathering a couple large enough rocks and debris broken off from the walls or ceiling, and threw a glance over his shoulder to where Dima was sitting down while he worked, the blanket thrown around his back and pooling at his sides. One blanket, and certainly not large enough they would be able to sit side by side and share as little space as possible.

"What _are_ you doing?"

Twitching guiltily, Juri turned around into an expression that was annoyed, sure, but bore no traces of having noticed he'd been staring, so he relaxed, smiling lopsidedly.

"Just give me a few," he said, dropping his chosen stones behind Dima, near the debris covering the back half of the raised platform, and then walked back towards his bag.

"Come back _this instant_ ," Dima snapped and Juri froze mid-step and turned enough to look over his shoulder, unsure whether to feel guilty or annoyed, while Dima continued as soon as he saw he had his attention, "if you're thinking of trying to warm up the stones as you did so we could cook the dove, I am not so ignorant of magic not to know it'd take far more effort and energy to warm them up sufficiently in this weather that it wouldn't be worth it. Come here and _sit_." Dima had pulled his legs up, creating a space in front of him and covering his legs with the blanket, spreading one arm to gesture at the empty spot in front of him. It was the best way for them to sit, but it was still a surprise.

"I thought you didn't want me to touch you," Juri said, teasing despite his better judgement, and any amusement he might have felt froze along with the look he got as Dima gestured again, sharp and short.

"Needs must, if we are to survive this reasonably comfortable and without complications." The tone suggested he better come and sit down or Dima would come over and get him. The tone further implied that if he was forced to do that, Juri would regret it. Throwing a regretful look towards his bag but _knowing_ Dima was right about the effort it'd take, Juri gave up on the idea. They didn't have the amount of food it'd take, and the stones wouldn't even stay warm long enough it'd _really_ be useful, but it would have been something further he could have done. Not enough, but _something_.

Folding himself into the space between Dima's legs, Juri took the edges of the blanket when they were offered to wrap them in front of him, and was suddenly reminded of how _tall_ the other feli was. It was ridiculous that he would have forgotten it, but Dima always kept himself at a distance, removed physically as well as emotionally with how he restrained he usually was. Now though, with those long legs bent around him and Dima's arms resting on top of his legs and further hemming him in, it was impossible to ignore. The solid presence of the broad chest behind him just emphasized the point, and Juri didn't need to look behind him to know that if he leaned back - he wouldn't, Dima had made his opinion more than known - the top of his head would be underneath Dima's chin. He hadn't felt this small with Dima since he first stood up, yanking the chains out of his cuffs and collar.

He needed to stop thinking about this, or it'd start having embarrassing and humiliating effects. Flicking his ears to get _some_ sort of movement and energy out without jostling Dima, Juri pulled his legs a little closer to himself. That helped a little, since his legs _were_ covered in fur up to the knees, and while the blanket wasn't that thick at least it closed in some air and kept the rest out. It wasn't ideal, and they'd have to leave this cobbled together cocoon when it was time to eat, but they'd save some body heat like this. 

Juri had no idea how sleeping would work out in terms of letting Dima have the space he so clearly wished to have, though. Up until now, Juri had let Dima use (or well, Dima had _claimed_ ) the mattress part of his bedroll, and Juri had accepted that and just rolled up in the blanket. Not the most comfortable, but it kept him warm, still, especially in Kurrata's regular climate. Now, though, they'd... what, have do to something like this, just laying down instead? Juri pushed that thought aside as a problem for later, but couldn't help his sigh.

"This is going to be boring," he muttered, fidgeting with the ends of the blanket without pulling them too far apart and letting in any air.

"What are you, a child?" Dima huffed and Juri felt things shifting around under the cover of the blanket, Dima's tail coming around in the front to do what Juri had already done; covering his toes. Tails were useful for things like that, and Dima's was magnificently long and thick. "You've walked for hours in silence."

He refused to feel shamed, but it was a little hard _not_ to squirm. Juri did let his ears do the shrugging for him, though. "We were _walking_ then. This is just... sitting here."

This close, though, Juri could feel a subtle shift in the air, like a sub-hearing hum, and frowned. It wasn't at all the same feeling as when he'd opened the Fortune, but it was along the same sort of... melody, so to speak, and he felt the same thing all the time when he worked magic himself. He just hadn't been close enough to Dima for long enough to be able to tell before.

"Think your cuffs and collar are enchanted... and if they are, even if they hadn't been welded together it would be next to impossible to get them off."

Dima had stilled behind him, and this close Juri could catch the soft hiss in the back of Dima's throat.

"If they are enchanted, you could undo it."

Not a question, and Dima wasn't even wrong, but...

"Yeah. If I actually could see _how_ they'd been enchanted. They look normal from the outside, so whatever work was done to them is probably hidden on the inside. I can't do anything with it like that. Sorry."

"I'll survive." Dima's tone was tightly displeased, but at least that wasn't really aimed at Juri, for once. Silence fell again, and Juri, uncertain what topics might be acceptable and further which ones Dima would have _patience_ , not just interest, to indulge in when he already didn't like him much, frowned and stayed quiet this time. 

The longer they sat there, the more things became clear; his legs weren't as cold as the rest of him, which of course, was usual during winter. It was still _cold_ , because both his legs and feet lacked the thicker layer of fur that the colder season usually brought, especially around his feet. His feet were, conversely, at the moment the part that was the warmest, thanks to his, and beyond that, Dima's, tail. His arms were _cold_ , and there was a draft down around their necks that was brushing his bare collarbones. It was supremely frustrating to know that if he'd just had at least one long-sleeved coat or shirt with him, he might have been pretty okay, right now, but why would he have brought that to a country even further south of his own? Around them, it was dark as if it was twilight in the unlit ruin, the heavy snowfall blocking out the sun, but he had enough night vision to make up for it. The ruined room wasn't as deteriorated as he might have thought, protected by the way it'd collapsed. And, running out of other things to pick up on, Juri's mind helplessly turned towards Dima. Dima, whose thighs where they were just barely brushing the outer sides of his own, were at least reasonably muscled, matching the rest of his sleekly muscled appearance. There was _just_ enough space between Juri's arms and Dima's that there was no tickle of fur against him, but he knew that white and black-striped fur looked thick and soft. Behind him, Dima's breathing whispered against his back with every breath, a brief suggestion of his chest pressed against him for a moment, then away. 

All of those were distractions, but not enough to take the edge off the cold. The largest problem wasn't actually the lower temperatures, because it couldn't be far below freezing; it was the fact that they were dressed for summer weather, on the northern half of the southern continent. Dima was undoubtedly more comfortable than he, covered nearly completely in fur as he was, but it wasn't a cure-all, as Juri's own legs reminded him. They were both uncomfortable, and if not freezing, then certainly still cold. The only spots that seemed to not be cold at all, were his toes, and his back. He probably also had the better spot between the two of them, which Juri almost felt guilty about. What was he going to do, though, when Dima was so much larger?

He could still not ignore Dima breathing against his back.

Somehow, hours crawled by like that, but Juri couldn't imagine this for a whole day, for _days_ in a row. It was just luck that the storm had hit in the early afternoon instead of the morning, but as the first storm had shown, these lasted for days at a minimum, closer to a week. He needed to be able to _do_ something, even if that something was just practising with his flute, or one of his half-hearted attempts at composing, but he needed the space to write if he were to get a feeling for it if he wasn't supposed to _play it_ , which cut down on what he could do. Those being the things he could do silently by himself, and Dima had made his opinions well known of what he thought of talking much beyond the absolutely bare necessities.

"Move." Dima's voice cut through the silence unexpectedly enough Juri jolted, but since he was reluctant to leave what little warmth they'd managed to create, he shot an inquisitive grimace over his shoulder. Dima barely flicked a narrow, bright blue glance down at him, one ear tilted. "We'll get something to eat, a chance to stretch."

Sighing, Juri nodded and let go of the blanket's ends, flinching at the cold slap of air hitting him. Dima wasn't wrong about probably needing to move around a little. His muscles, which hadn't been protesting the slightly cramped way he'd been sitting, made their protests known as soon as he started moving. Juri was sure he must have imagined the brief, tiny flash of smile he _might_ have seen out of the corner of his eyes as he groaned and stretched. Jogging around the room, he stopped in the protected corner where the decorations he'd spotted earlier were. The colours were lost to him at the moment, too dark for that, but the elegant swirling curlicues and sharp hook-ended turns were in some ways as achingly familiar as they were nearly alien, too old to have any real counterpart in the present.

The best find was the painted figures _between_ the borders though; sinuously moving figures in what looked like dance, each with a fading curling line trailing behind them.

Any historian of other species would probably claim those were the trailing ends of belts artistically rendered, even - especially - when those very same curling lines rose up behind the bodies, completely at odds with how fabric actually moved.

"Dima!" Juri completely forgot Dima might not be interested in this, and would absolutely consider it unnecessary, but the discovery was bright in his chest and created its own warmth. Juri threw a smile over his shoulder and waved Dima over. He did come, too, after a pause over the jerky and bread, his lips a flat line. "Look at that, up there."

Waving up into the corner as Dima stopped beside him and even reached up, one long, muscled arm, the blue-black stripes like little slashes of void against the pale fur, to brush the bottom border with a couple light fingers. Dima then dropped his arm and turned away.

"This won't help us now, or change how things are for feli today." It was sharply dismissive, and Juri grimaced, trying to at least take the lack of a sneer or annoyed impatience as indication the reaction was better than it could have been, and followed Dima back to the food. As he took the rather sad sandwiches he was handed, Juri paused with the first one partway through his mouth when Dima surprisingly spoke up.

"At least your trip hasn't been wasted." Dima's voice was soft and even, but nonchalance couldn't hide that it was a sentiment Juri wouldn't have expected from him, even less considering the dismissal earlier. Glancing up, Juri was met with Dima's head bent over his food, ears telling nothing and the thick, long tail wrapped expressionless against the bottom curve of his crossed legs, to keep his feet warm. Still, there was a smile on Juri's face as he bent to his own food. He'd definitely found what he'd been looking for, and this made him curious to check through what little was intact enough to be safe of the rest of the house, to see if there was any more at all.

It was something simple and straightforward in comparison to Dima, to the hidden weight in his bag - the bag he was carrying himself and not the one Dima was, which was maybe unfair paranoia. As much as that Fortune probably rather belonged to Dima by dint that it was one of the leaders of his people who'd had it commissioned, there was no way to know what Dima would do with something like that. Maybe he'd know if he could give it to him if they did travel all the way back to Spears' Rest together. Just because Dima was a prejudiced asshole didn't mean he wasn't, maybe, the right person to hand it over to for safeguarding.

Juri wouldn't, however, hand it over _just because_ Dima came from the people the Fortune technically belonged to. That would be a recklessly stupid thing to do, even if it wasn't one of the cannon Fortunes, but one of the shield ones. Just because it couldn't be used to actively do damage didn't mean it couldn't be used in combat, to devastating result if one knew what one was doing. Still, the issue of what he was going to do with the Fortune was far less pressing than the current circumstances, especially as the evening grew older. They couldn't sit here all night, and, despite that both of them had probably been trying to studiously ignore it, finally Dima grunted. When Juri glanced over his shoulder, silent question in the angle of his ears, there was a pinched expression narrowing Dima's eyes, his ears turned back just enough to be obvious.

"There's no reason to stay up much longer, even if tomorrow won't be any more interesting or pleasant than today has been. Lay down." Dima shifted back enough, unfolding away from Juri to allow him the space to do so but unfortunately that also got rid of any warmth they'd once again gathered by huddling up. If he'd had even half of a reason to be contrary, Juri might have ignored the order - for an order it was - just to delay a little longer. But if nothing else it'd been simply said, expecting obedience, sure, but not swamped in disgust or condescension. It just _was_ , heavy and expectant, if not warm.

It made it easier than it otherwise might have been, to tip his head in assent, despite feeling awkward about the whole thing, and turn his back and lay down on his side. Shuffling forward a little, in an attempt at leaving as much space as possible without scooting right off the thin mattress himself, Juri wasn't certain what to do with his legs. Stretched them out, pulled them up. Shifted one down---

" _Stay still_."

Juri froze more from the deep annoyance in Dima's voice than the words, and cleared his throat, a faint crawl of heat working down from his temples to his cheeks. "Sorry."

A huff behind him, and then Dima laid down too. Forced close thanks to how narrow the mattress was, he was pressed against Juri from chest all the way down to his feet, and past them. Dima was tall, Juri could feel the suggestion of his chin above his head, and despite this, despite how _close_ he was, Dima somehow managed distance by the tension in his body, a bare breath of air between them. The blanket came down and Juri tugged the other end under him, cutting out as much of the cold air as possible, helped along by using one of his bags as a pillow. He could feel the brush of fingertips against his waist, just barely. Dima's solution to what to do with the arm he couldn't have wedged under the bag he was using was apparently to pull it far enough back _most_ of it rested against his own waist, leaving only a suggestion of touch to disturb Juri. It was more distracting than such a little touch had any right to be.

"As I said, stay still, and this should be tolerable," Dima said after several seconds of silence and the frown was audible in his voice. Juri had no idea what possessed him, but it pulled a little smirk out of him.

"I'll just tell my sleeping body to turn into a statue, yeah. Not all of us can master everything we are and see, every second of every day and night, you know." 

"You should try it, sometime." The rumbling lilt in the whisper would, with different circumstances, said by _someone else_ surely have been a tease, in Juri's opinion. He was pretty sure it couldn't have been, however, and closed his eyes with an eyeroll and a sigh. Of course Dima would honestly believe it was possible and mean such a reply with utter seriousness.

Compared to how he had fallen asleep, Juri woke up reasonably warm, even with the threatening brush of cold air against one side of his face, and weighed down. _Surrounded_ even, as he'd turned towards Dima in his sleep and with the weight of Dima's arm thrown over his waist and up around his back, pressing him close. There was also one leg tangled between his, with Dima's other leg thrown over his, hooking around his shin. There was the weight of Dima's chin against the crown of his hair. There was also something insistently digging into his stomach, but that Juri ignored since if he was to acknowledge that, he'd have to acknowledge the similar pressure in his own pants, and he really would rather not. 

Not to say he wasn't actively guilty in disobeying Dima's last command to _stay still_ , because his tail was wrapped around one of Dima's ankles, and one of his arms had stolen over Dima's waist, now trapped by Dima's arm over his. It was unfair how nice it felt, the solid weight around and against him. Squeezing his eyes shut just for another few seconds, Juri sighed, somewhere between exasperated and utterly relaxed. The only thing that spoiled it was the itchy sensation of fur in need of a grooming. As if in response to his sigh, Dima's fingers against his back twitched and the heavy, slack muscles around him flexed, a shift following into an unconscious stretch as he slowly woke up. Juri suppressed a groan and tensed in expectation of what would surely follow.

Dima, however, merely pulled his limbs away, allowing Juri to do the same in turn, and sat up. There was a tension in his jaw that told Juri Dima was gritting his teeth, and his lips were a bare, bloodless line in his face.

There might, maybe, also have been a blush on those high cheekbones. 

Dima didn't say anything at all though as he quickly left the room while undoing the messy remains of his ponytail, fingercombing it as he went. Juri stared after him, licked his lips, and then, reluctantly, rolled off the platform and _definitely_ ignored his own morning hard-on. He refused to do anything with that with Dima so close, when he was... well, okay, there was no reason to think he was even partially responsible, these things _happened_ , but right now his brain would probably settle on Dima if he tried to do anything about this and that wasn't something he felt like dealing with. Instead, he pulled out his grooming brush and then, with that dealt with and since he was the only one left in here, Juri took the opportunity to start breakfast still wrapped in the blanket. Partway into pulling things out, he paused, frowning. One ear flicked towards what he could swear had been a sound and he slowly looked up, squinting into one of the debris-filled corners. There was...

He didn't even think about it, just _pounced_ and came away with two lizards dead by his claws, soft and fat and too lethargic from sudden torpor from the fall in temperature to scurry away. When he looked up, Dima stood in the doorway with a dove in one hand, an eyebrow raised and looking more composed than he had when he first got up.

"I see you've experienced the plus of our chosen shelter," he said, coming over and holding a hand out, "give those to me. I'll bury them in the snow closer to the entrance, and we'll cook these either at dinner or tomorrow morning, in case we find more who have taken shelter with us."

Nodding, Juri handed the dead lizards over and finished preparing breakfast, as much of one as it was. At least the extra animals wouldn't just make sure what supplies they _did_ have would last longer, though at this rate they'd have to ration either way, but the addition of meat would help, in this colder weather.

They ate in silence after Dima came back, though Juri contemplated several different ways to try another conversation, but every time he glanced up and caught the distant expression focused elsewhere, a slight frown caught between slim, elegant eyebrows, he was reminded of how Dima had reacted so far to most of the attempts to talk, and didn't. Still, when they were finished, he stood up, shifting a little from foot to foot and flexing his toes against the cold stone.

"I, uh, want to have a look around. Do you want the---"

"Keep it." And there was the reason he hadn't made that many attempts to talk to Dima, because that was _definitely_ a condescending sneer as Dima looked him over even if the blanket, still draped around him, hid any bare skin and the spots of fur that were even on display. As if Dima wasn't cold, too, even if he surely was _less cold_ than Juri. Being covered as he was made for reasonable protection, but it certainly wasn't _enough_ in this weather. Before he had the chance to say anything, Dima's lips tightened minutely and he glanced away, then back. “While you do that, where is the brush?”

Ah.

"Right," Juri said, unsure whether to feel smug Dima had to resort to sharing his grooming tool with him against his wish to, or if he wanted to sullenly deny him. He did neither, going over to his back and fishing the long-stemmed firm-bristled brush out. "Here."

He really could've done without the displeasure on Dima's face, and squashed the half thought of offering to help, because Dima would refuse, insulting him at the same time, and even if he took the offer, wouldn't return the favour, even if it was easier. Turning on his feet, Juri stomped out, managing to corral his ears forwards again when he was out of Dima's presence. 

Exhaling, he pulled the blanket more tightly around himself and refused to acknowledge the slightly mournful memory of waking up earlier. It'd been so nice. Pity Dima was a prejudiced asshole.

Most of the house was enough of a ruin the half-collapsed corridors and rooms were all at least partially choked with snow, leaving him to slog through it to get a better look. Juri _almost_ on pure petty stubbornness that'd honestly hurt no one but himself, refused to use the slowly-filling footsteps Dima had left when he'd gone where Juri was. He was using enough energy anyway, so he grudgingly used the partially-beaten paths Dima had left. At least he worked up something of a temperature, walking around like this. The house was large and sprawling, though most of it inaccessible. It wasn't even easy to say if it'd belonged to a family of a finer station, since feli houses always tended to run on the large side when there was the opportunity to, thanks to the family sizes litters easily created.

There were spots of colours and carved or painted borders nearly everywhere to find in the muted light, scattered remnants of actual, ancient history, and maybe it wasn't _much_ , and it'd all been left to ruin with no way to restore it, but it _existed_. In one room, sheltered enough it wasn't filled with snow up to Juri's knees but the floor still covered, revealing it had to levels of a sort, with the back half of the room lower than the front, Juri walked in and looked up. The ceiling had probably been plastered when the house was in use, with bricks underneath, and quite a few bricks were missing, leaving dark holes up to the part of the house that'd fallen in on the bottom floor. Most of the plaster was missing, but what was there...

Faded greens in swirling patterns revealed remnants of some sort of vine-like plant, heavy with fruit in the corners, and what looked like a piece of painted sky. Again, it wasn't much, and it was honestly starting to feel a little depressing, all these broken remnants. Grimacing, Juri turned around to leave again, but paused. Cocked his ears and tilted his head, tail swinging up slightly behind him. The snow blanket on the floor was barely deep enough to cover his toes, and he'd kicked it around coming in here. There was something on the floor.

It took some work, scooting the snow around, and it certainly left his toes near freezing, but the reward was an almost entirely intact mosaic of a pair of female feli, one combing the other's hair and with their feet in water that seemed to be weirdly full of clouds like a sky, until Juri realized the water of the mosaic was meant to reflect the sky painted onto the ceiling. Backing off towards the doorway, Juri surveyed the mosaic, dull with dirt but still visible.

Smiling, he turned and left, working his way back towards the better protected room they were camped in, and, as he passed the part closer to the exit, grimaced. It was still snowing heavily, the wind driving the snow mostly horizontal, still, from what he could see. They'd be here for a couple days yet, and if that wasn't _some_ sort of punishment for some wrong he'd surely committed sometime, Juri didn't know what would be. They were just _really_ lucky they'd come across this city, since being caught out in this would still have been worse than being stuck here with Dima. It might not have killed them, but they certainly would've been much worse for wear. He just hoped the next storm, if one came, would take more than just a week to roll in so they wouldn't be caught out like this again, since there was definitely more than just a week to the edge of the wasteland from here. With some luck though...

For now, there was still _this_ to get through, and Juri, still smiling when he came back into their room, was met with a thoroughly unimpressed look from Dima. Juri wasn't sure if his lips were a colour they usually were or not, so he couldn't tell how cold Dima was because they were pressed so flat and thin.

"Sit." Dima gestured in front of him as he sat himself back on the bedroll mattress, looking no less displeased but he must be cold enough to admit defeat, and Juri felt a little bad for having taken so much time. " _Are_ you a child, to be so entertained by empty ruins?"

Juri wasn't sure he felt particularly sorry anymore, because that was just _petty_. The memory of the mosaic was still warm in the back of his mind so he shrugged, the smile lingering even in the face of Dima's annoyance.

"I'm twenty one, thanks for asking. There was a mosaic, almost entirely whole, in one of the other rooms." Giving Dima the blanket, he shuffled into the same spot as yesterday, curling his tail around himself to cover his feet and maybe get them warm again. The cold air made him shiver, even after the blanket had been brought around and he closed it around them. Dima was silent for several minutes, but at the same time as he curled his tail around his legs and thus in front of Juri, hemming him in further, he spoke up.

"Unexpected, I suppose. What was it?"

It was probably as much of a peace-offering that would be given, and frankly, he'd take it, even if it wouldn't last for long. Sitting quiet and still for hours wasn't exactly fun or entertaining. This was... something, at least, even if sitting this close to Dima made it very hard to ignore how they'd woken up this morning. To stop thinking about that, Juri focused back on Dima and his question.

"Two feli women. One of them were combing the other's hair, their feet in water that was reflecting the sky that was painted on the ceiling." Juri frowned, hearing himself start to sound... wistful, almost. But it was hard not to be, because talking about it brought the memory of the room up, and how sad the ruin of it was, even if it was also impressive that the mosaic, at least, had lasted this long. There was nothing but a hum from Dima, but that was alright. Better than anything else he could've gotten, considering most of the reactions he'd gotten so far. It was that, plus an impossible curiosity, that drove him to ask the question that'd hovered in the back of his head for a while now.

"Question." He didn't move to look behind him, just turned his ear back towards Dima, and felt him shift a little behind him. It caused a draft to steal in, and he shuddered, clutching the ends of the strained blanket tighter.

"What is it?"

"I chose to go here since I heard all about what the feli in Ar-Hurrn-Zami do to outsiders, no matter if they're feli or not, but that wasn't the only place I considered." It wouldn't have been much closer to go north, since even with the ocean separating Golden Abode from Spears' Rest, it was closer from his home to Kurrata than to the northern reaches of Spears' Rest. "Would I have gotten anything out of choosing to go north instead?"

There was no real reason to specify, and maybe someone else would've assumed, probably even rightfully so, that by Dima's attitude the answer was foregone, but he didn't want to make that assumption. Dima was silent for long enough Juri thought he wouldn't answer and let that _be_ the answer, but then there was another shift, a subtle lean forward that turned the warm spot behind his back into a suggestion of weight from Dima's torso.

"We don't treat foreign feli like the ones in the desert apparently do, not even half-breeds, but suspicion would be the least of it. Your welcome wouldn't have been warm, and no one would've been willing to teach you any songs. You wouldn't have been in any danger of being _enslaved_ , however." There was no apology in there, or shame, but Juri hadn't really expected any. Dima was hardly ashamed of the attitude he'd thrown around so far. On the other hand it was honest and, surprisingly, without any condescension about that he might deserve such treatment. The most surprising thing was that Dima had apparently understood part of what he was doing here, aside from exploring a piece of suppressed history, from what he'd been trying to say when Dima had interrupted him back when he'd told him to stop playing his flute. 

Maybe it wasn't such a large leap to make, but Juri was more surprised Dima had clearly thought that far about what he'd said, whether he'd made that connection now, or earlier. That he'd bothered to think any further about it at all, as little as he clearly wished to have to do with a _half-breed_.

"Thought so," he mumbled, then sighed and pulled his tail closer around his feet. It was cold, and he was already hungry. The promise of meat later was pleasant, but that wouldn't be until later, and there were many hours in a day where they had no choice but to sit still to try and conserve warmth.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dima's turn again, and he's Not Pleased with how things are going. At least they are able to leave as the storm finally blows over and continue their trip.

Dima woke up two days after their arrival in the exact same position as he had the last two mornings; wrapped around the half-breed like he wasn't just the last thing available, but rather the best one. This morning came not only with their legs tangled and with one of his arms around the half-breed's back, but with his other arm, which had up until now stayed under the bag where he'd shoved it the last two nights, shoved under Juri's cheek and behind his head, with his hand buried in the thick, unruly mess of curls. The half-breed fit where he lay curled up against him like he'd been made for it, and the universe was surely laughing at him. This whole situation was humiliating and a blow to how much control he thought he had over himself.

At least there was no morning wood to deal with this morning. It was a small boon, but too small to be much consolation. To be sure, he'd never shared a bed with anyone he had not wished to share it with, so he'd never had the opportunity to find out how his body might behave when forced in close proximity to someone who, no matter how _generally_ attractive they might otherwise be wasn't what he'd choose thanks to what the half-breed was. The spots of fur were honestly more off-putting than if Juri had been born completely bare of it and only sported ears and tail to show his mixed heritage.

As humiliating as this was, there was no other way to do this. Sleeping back to back might put a few obstacles in the way for ending up like this again, but Juri's bedroll mattress wasn't really wide enough for that. It was barely wide enough for them to sleep chest to back, or like they were now. If they were supposed to be somewhat comfortable, he'd have to suffer the repeated humiliation.

The bright red curls were softer than they had any right to be, curled around his fingers like a caress. He'd also apparently been determined enough to get his hand in there to mostly demolish the braid the half-breed slept with to manage his hair.

Dima let go, and, since it was actually later than he'd thought it was - the muted light the cloud cover created, plus this far in the house where any windows had been covered by fallen debris made it tricker to tell time - pulled his arm back, not caring if he woke Juri up. There was no reason to sleep any longer, though there was also no real reason to get up, either. They had nothing really they could do, and it made Dima resent Baki having taken the things he'd brought with him. If he'd had them now, he'd had some distractions.

Juri groaned and rolled over away from him, which, while it pulled the blanket with him, also left him rolling straight off the bedroll. The half-asleep escape was thus promptly followed by a weirdly warbling yowl as Juri met stone before the blanket could cover all of him. He should count himself lucky he hadn't rolled off the platform, _too_. Smirking, Dima got up and left the room, stretching as he went and finding a window to get an idea of the weather.

The wind had calmed, at least. He wasn't blasted with a faceful of wind and snow as soon as he found somewhere bared to the elements, which was an improvement over the last two days. The sky was still covered in clouds, dark and heavy, but the green tint was gone, and even if it was hard to see from here, it seemed the edges were closer to snow-gray rather than blue-black. They would probably be stuck here another couple days at the least, and with the snow up to his knees by now, if not more, even with the lessened wind it would be next to impossible to travel. That didn't even account for the need for shelter, or that it was still snowing.

"Avas knows it would be a boon if it stopped," Dima muttered, glowering out at the muted day, choked in snow. He'd expected more whining from the half-breed by now, as restless as he was, but so far he'd been surprisingly easy to stand. Sure, Juri solved it partially by attempting to spend as much time as possible as he could away from sitting still with him, but they only had so much food, and while exercise would be a good way to try and keep their body temperature up despite their lacking clothing, with no way to replace the lost energy, it wasn't advisable.

Their store of meat from the animals that'd wandered into the ruin was dwindling, though there were two small sparrows shoved into snow, waiting for more possible additions since yesterday, when Juri had managed to take them down like he had the first dove, if at a smaller distance. It really wasn't worth the effort to do anything else but save them for now. With how long it'd taken Juri to warm up the stones with his music to cook the first batch of animals, he was pretty sure Juri had gone hungry that night. He hadn't much thought about it as his personal use of magic was through being a particularly skilled attuner, and that didn't require anything from him but using the enchanted items he acquired, as he unfortunately could not make any enchantments himself. Those like the half-bred, who used magic by music, relied not on innate skill, which even Attuning did, but by reordering the forces of the world from the outside. It made the effort of working against nature all the greater, as there was more energy that needed to be shuffled around. Even more so, then, when one tried to warm up stones in cold weather.

The wind, wetly cold and cutting, still, despite not being gale force strength any longer, slapped him in the face and Dima turned away, reluctantly retracing his path. He couldn't actually avoid either this situation or the half-breed if he wanted to be nominally comfortable, or get breakfast. He would also say he wasn't interested in indulging in curiosity for things that didn't matter, but the half-breed's initial answer to his questions about what he was doing _here_ had brought a thought or two, perhaps, and with nothing but time on their hands...

Dima still resisted until late that afternoon, trying not to focus on the warm, but not as warm as he _should be_ , ball of brown skin and red fur and hair curled up between his legs. The way he was sitting made Juri even smaller than he actually was, built solidly and with surprising width in the shoulders, and that with already being short, shorter than some women were, even. Maybe that was another reason as to why the half-breed tried to push all that cheerful friendliness all the time, being too short to easily outrun anyone taller or stronger? Scowling, Dima felt his ears twitch, and stared across the room as he entered it. Definitely not down at the half-breed.

"Is history what you usually endanger yourself for? You're clearly not trained in any arms." That knife in his bag, while it was kept sharp, wasn't much more than a slightly larger kitchen knife. It would do passably in a brawl, but that was it. One large, red-furred ear turned his way with such natural ease it felt wrong, because no matter what he looked like with a blanket covering most of him, Dima knew exactly what the rest of him looked like, and the way it betrayed his blood.

"Not really," Juri said, shrugging under the cover of the blanket, "I usually just travel around during the summer months, I like to see things, and if I get a chance, learn new music. This was an impulse, I guess. I was curious."

A pretty bad one, Dima thought with a grunt, but what he was hearing seemed befitting for the half-breed.

"Wasn't planning on this taking as long as this is going to do." There was a frown in that bright voice now, a tension in Juri's body he could pick up even if they were barely touching. It was an apprehension he shared, because if this took longer than another month and a half... Dima suppressed a shudder, pressing his lips together while he stilled the tip of his tail between one lashing flick and the next.

"We'll simply have to take the rest quicker than we've done so far," he said, and Juri did at least not point out that he couldn't control the weather, and that they had no idea when the next storm would hit, potentially stranding them for another few days to a week more, and that _if_ there was shelter. That was a concern for later; for now they _did_ have shelter, and, as the storm continued to abate, temperatures slowly rose over the next two days, so that, by the point of the sixth day they neither needed to sleep curled up together _or_ stay huddled under the blanket. It made the last day easier as they waited for the snow to melt enough so they could actually leave.

This was taking too long.

They left the ruined city a week after they'd run through it in search for shelter, and this time, while they could certainly not spend hours and hours running, they didn't just walk. Keeping an eye out for the bare few animals that were around became more of a necessity which slowed them down some, but not as much as Dima had assumed it would. The half-breed couldn't just hunt, he was definitely respectably good at it, his keener sight at a distance widening their immediate reach. It still took them more than two weeks to cut through the wasteland, casting looks north-west more often than he'd like to admit, but the possibilities of shelter remained slim. They passed two ruined villages, little more than suggestions of lines on the ground, crumbled, wind-smoothed wall here and there. Certainly not enough if a storm came, and definitely giving no tantalising proof of who had lived here, though they knew very well they must have been felin.

The skies remained clear and the wind warm and dry all the way south, until they were walking with the sharp line of hills to the north again and were picking through another ruined city for a place to make camp. This one was in worse condition than the ruin further into the wasteland, though not as bad as two before this one. Not surprising, Dima thought as he surveyed the forest of toppled walls, stone blocks scattered over the remains of streets and into the bare suggestions of houses. They were close enough to the rest of Kurrata there was actual grass, dry and spindly, and hardy thorn bushes and cacti on the ground now, and they hadn't had to dip into their dwindling supply of stolen jerky for two days now, finding enough animals to reliably keep them fed.

The wind cut a swirling path through the ruins, the shadows long from twilight, and the air was dry and charged, nearly sparking around them as it tickled the fine fur and thin skin on the inside of his ears. Dima turned north-west and suppressed a sigh. There were clouds over the hills, far less distant than he'd like, and lightning lit up the odd colours of their undersides. That would be another few days lost, at the least.

"We might want to try the hills. There's no adequate shelter here..." Trailing off just as the half-breed turned to him, then looked to where he was looking, Dima caught the grimace and Juri's slump out of the corner of his eyes, but he was already scanning the scattered remains of walls and debris around them. Most of it reached no higher than his knee or hip, but more than enough were still, if only in fragments, tall enough to rise above him. More than enough for _cover_.

The knife was in the bag he carried. It didn't take much thought or time to get it out.

"Hoping for a cave? At least it'd be higher gro---uh!?" The half-breed grunted when he rushed past him, grabbing his arm in passing and pulling him over to one of the walls high enough to give them cover for their backs, and at least, while he was wide-eyed and confused, he stayed pressed against the wall. Juri also dipped one hand into his own bag and groped for his flute, but the way it was packed up, it'd take too long.

"Well, what do we have here?" The voice was high, but not the least bit soft, and the feli was muscled and scarred, carrying a spear that was clearly polished and sharp. The dying sunlight winked on the straight edge of the metal tip. Beside her crept a much more willowy feli with a bow, not a scar on her, though her tail, Dima noted with cold fury, had been chopped off close enough to her back it couldn't be seen at all from the front. Judging the two of them, Dima dismissed the danger of the feli with the spear; yes, she had the advantage of length, but she moved not with the sort of trained intent a warrior would have, merely the natural grace of any hunting feli. The true problem lay with the bowyer, and he glanced between them, lips thin, and shifted his stance.

"Just trying to avoid the long, greedy and probably very well-armed arm of a human who thinks he owns things he doesn't," the half-breed said, and Dima felt a twitch at the corner of his eye. Could he not even be quiet when it actually counted?

"Oh?" The spear-wielder paused, gaze flicking from Juri to Dima and his collar and cuffs, eyes narrowing. "You didn't come from the west."

"We chose the wasteland as better deterrence than just the weather, of late," Dima said, tightly but not quite a snap and with a more considering look at the two in front of them, now. Understanding what Juri might have seen where he'd been focusing on their capability of being a threat to them. These two were either brigands, or escaped slaves.

"... Well," the spear-wielder said, her tail lazy behind her, the tip of the spear shifting slightly towards the ground and nodding towards Dima - or rather, the cuffs on his wrists, "we might be able to help you with those, at least. If you'd be willing to hand over the knife."

As if the knife was truly the most dangerous weapon he possessed. Dima snorted and didn't miss the half-breed's barely suppressed groan (it probably came with a glare, too, but he wasn't looking), but tipped his head, flipped the knife around, and offered it, hilt first. The spear-wielder came forward, though she didn't lower her spear entirely, just shifted it to point to the half-breed. As if that would truly stop him if he felt it necessary; he doubted she would aim for anything vital, if she was willing to extend this trust merely on the _appearance_ that at least one of them was an escaped slave.

"Come then. Dilshad will decide how much help we'll offer." Surprisingly, it was the bowyer who spoke, her voice as soft as the rest of her, but by the way she kept the arrow pointed at them, all the way to the rough town hidden among the hills to the north when even the spear-wielder walked with her weapon more like a walking stick, told him she was definitely the more guarded of the two.

'Dilshad' turned out to be a feli almost as tall as Dima was, her nose twice-broken and her fur an even, cloudy gray, with the tips of her ears rounded. Her brown skin, paler than Juri's own but certainly not the palest of her gathering of escapees, was a complimentary contrast to the pale colours of her hair and fur. Her remaining eye was a vivid green, and it was an outright crime that the other one had obviously been dug out, neither carefully nor treated after, by the scarring visible even past the eyepatch she wore.

She looked to them when they were led into the largest building where she sat at the other side of a dimly-lit firepit, felin gathered around her, but when she turned to their 'guards', ears cocked, it wasn't their presence that was addressed first.

"How did it go?"

"The hunt was moderately successful since we weren't interrupted until the end, already on the way back," the spear-wielder, her buff colours so dark they were nearly brown, said with an easy smile as both her and her companion handed over quite a few rabbits and doves to a couple nearby felin, "found a recently-abandoned campsite, closer than we'd like, but those fuckers spotted the storm incoming early enough they might even get to some sort of shelter in time." By her tone, that was not a good thing, whoever she was talking about.

"Thank you, both of you," Dilshad smiled, revealing three of her teeth, one of them one of her upper fangs, were gone. It didn't really take away from her smile, however, dimpling her rounded chin. "And you caught something else, too."

She turned to Dima and Juri, her head cocked, considering but not hostile. She looked over the half-breed first, and didn't seem to take the same umbrage to his ingratiating smiles as he had. When she turned her gaze on him, it lingered before she cut sharply to the collar and cuffs. "Would you like help getting those off?"

"If you have the resources to deal with possible enchantments," he said, and she frowned, pursing her lips.

"Can't say we do, but you're sure they _are_ enchanted?"

Flicking a glance down to the half-breed's crown of red curls, he would not say anything about his skills with magic - it certainly wasn't rare enough to be a trait so sought after these escaped slaves would potentially like to keep him. Even so, being able to use magic without having it leave a stain did lend one some advantages, and it was definitely more to both of their benefit that it was kept as an advantage. The half-breed, though, shrugged.

"They feel like they have been." Easy certainty in the voice, and it was one of those flashes where Dima found him to be more tolerable than usual. He just didn't know why the half-breed insisted on being so ingratiating so often. Sure, he clearly didn't have martial skill and strength to back him up, but he was not so intolerable at other times he should _need_ all those fawning smiles to make himself seem less annoying. Though, admittedly, those smiles seemed to have lost some of their grating edge recently, but Dima figured it was because he'd spent a whole week watching the half-breed mostly from behind, and the effect, even if that was weeks hence, hadn't yet worn off.

"We can certainly confirm if they are enchanted, then," Dilshad said with a wry smile, though her expression narrowed right after, her vivid gaze cutting back to Dima, "though that means the human who put them on you had the means for such a thing... and while we are here for all felin who's managed to free themselves, if they have found their way to us, I do have to consider the safety of those who are already here. Is he looking for you?"

A weighted question. Dima caught the half-breed shrugging, ears cocked uncertainty, in the bottom corner of his vision, and he shook his head.

"We haven't ascertained that yet, but it's probable." Someone going through the effort of putting enchanted collar and cuffs on you was probably pretty eager to _keep you_ , but Dima couldn't be sure it wasn't Baki's standard procedure with all his slaves. "It doesn't matter, however. As long as we---"

The crack of thunder made more than one feli in the gathering jump, lightning following it almost instantly, the flicker of colour slightly blue-tinted, even in its over-saturated state. Dima tilted his head, casting a look up towards the low roof, which he barely cleared, then back to Dilshad, meeting her eye with a wry twist to his own lips.

"As we could be afforded shelter from the storm, that is enough. _I_ am leaving as soon as it's over." He didn't look down to the half-breed, but he felt him shift beside him, presumably dipping his head into a nod. The light from the fire pit made his hair look like it was a sky at sunset, the golden highlights burning brightly.

"You deserve to keep your safety, and I wish to be home before winter."

There'd been a tension in her shoulders and around her remaining eye, but at their reassurance Dilshad relaxed, her tail sweeping behind her as she smiled again.

"We would've figured something out if you truly had needed a place to stay, but shelter from the storm we can certainly provide. This one shouldn't last more than a couple days, too. The storm season is coming to an end."

That was the best news he'd heard since Juri had unlocked the chain keeping him to the floor.

It was, unfortunately, the _only_ good news to be had, as when Dilshad led him through the narrow underground corridors that connected the caves and houses the settlement was made up of to the cave furthest from the rest of the settlement where a rough smithy of a sort had been set up, even the largest and heaviest pliers couldn't cut the metal. In fact, they didn't seem to connect properly, despite the force the impressively muscled blacksmith was clearly bringing to bear. He finally stopped with a huffed grunt, shaking his head.

"Think yer right. Enchanted. It's a favourite tool o' the nobles round here. Makes it not just hard to run away, but harder to not be caught again as an obvious runaway." Dragging a hand that was missing two fingers through his short, black hair, the feli put the pliers down on an anvil that was more of a very sturdy stone with a reasonably flat surface than an actual anvil. That they had the tools at all was probably a work of years.

"You tried," he said quietly, dipping his head. It confirmed the half-breed's observation, which at the least also further confirmed his opinions on magic could be trusted to be accurate and thus useful.

Despite Dilshad's reassurance that they were at the end of the season, the storm was no less vicious than the previous ones. The only difference was that it was mostly rain again; every now and then, the rain turned to sleet, falling in heavy splats to the ground and freezing in large sheets. It left vast swathes of the little settlement covered with frozen spots which were then again covered in a thin layer of water. Luckily, they had no need to go outside thanks to the tunnels, which were more water proof than Dima would have thought. Another relief was that it was a lot easier to gain some distance to the half-breed, with more space to move about and more _people_ around.

Yet, he found himself often planted at the side of the doorway into the largest room in the whole settlement, a sort of gathering space that Juri seemed to be herded into often enough, as soon as someone had spotted him with the flute the evening the first day. Dima wasn't sure why he kept coming, especially when Dilshad was proving an interesting conversation partner; hadn't he tried to _avoid_ having to listen to the half-breed playing? 

Someone must have taught Juri another local feli song, because the tune that was winging its way towards the low ceiling, accompanied by a drum and a couple feli dancing to the music in the space left open around the fire pit, was unfamiliar. His shoulders were relaxed, and, since they'd both gotten the chance to wash off _and_ wash their clothes, the half-breed was no longer sitting in clothes partially infused with dust and long since dry mud. His freckles could now be easily seen again where they spread over his face and down his throat like constellations, while the ones on his shoulders were mostly hidden by his shirt. Annoyed, Dima closed his eyes. Clean clothes were still a boon, and now he had more than just one set of clothing to use, a tunic generously donated and then adjusted somewhat, for his broader shoulders. Only the blacksmith among them had shoulders that were similarly wide to his, but that feli was too short to otherwise donate any of his clothing.

The music, easily heard in here despite the constant, low roar of the rain outside, was sprightly, the drum a low, soft counterpoint to the sparklier flute. Frowning, Dima crossed his arms over his chest. He should... do something else. There was surely something else to keep his attention than _this_. As if in answer to that, a noise down the corridor had him turning an ear towards the doorway, and he opened his eyes as Dilshad came to stand in it, hip against the frame, one ear turned towards the music while she turned her face towards him. She lacked stripes, but the colour was as close as he could expect outside of the northern tribes, and it was as much a balm of familiarity as it stung him with a fierce sense of homesickness.

"You keep your distance and glare, despite that he seems pleasant enough... Why make your journey more of a burden than it has be, if you plan to travel together until you reach your home soil? Has the little redhead lethally offended you?" It wasn't an accusation, rather amused curiosity, and Dima snorted softly, keeping his eyes on Dilshad rather than to glance to the half-breed.

"No more than his existence in general does, coming from _where_ he does. I find his constant wheedling tiresome," Dima said, allowing a flick of his tail.

" _Wheedling_?" Dilshad chuckled, a smoky near-purring sound, shaking her head. She threw him a smirk, clearly amused by something, though what it should be, Dima couldn't figure out. Even less so by her next few words as she continued. "He's friendly, pretty, not _wheedling_."

Dilshad's voice rolled with the accent her native dialect leant the common one, and somehow that brought back the earlier feeling of soothing familiarity, even when Dilshad speaking the common dialect was not the least bit similar to how he sounded.

"That may be so. It changes nothing." He wasn't convinced he'd call it _friendly_. It was so relentless, and with the half-breed being... well, a half-breed, he had all reason to try and ingratiate himself to the people around him, feli or human (or elves and orcs, but they had less bearing currently). A long-fingered, strong hand brushed his arm, the ear Dilshad didn't have turned towards the rest of the room cocked at an angle.

"Why not? He has not kept you for himself, has he?" A pause as she pursed her lips. "Though I don't believe he'd be able to. I'm uncertain about the laws governing those of mixed blood here, since they happen so rarely..."

"No." The idea was ridiculous. "He did help to free me."

The hand on his arm smacked him, if gently.

"And yet you're here, holding his blood against him, when that's something he can do nothing about! Do you even know how he came about?"

"I haven't put any thought to it." He grumbled, displeased the half-breed was managing to disrupt the rapport he'd easily found with Dilshad over the last day, even when Juri was busy elsewhere. He did glance sideways, towards the center of the room and the gathering around the half-breed, frowning. "But from what little I know, my assumption would be 'willingly'."

"See, pretty. Wouldn't that be the best of it?" Amusement fading, Dilshad sighed, turning her face to watch the scene in front of them. Her tail, despite her clear exasperation with him, was brushing against his shin. He let his own brush hers, and watched, pleased, her lips curl into a brief smile. "I'd rather every single child come from a human and feli be the result of a willing union, rather than what _most often_ happens, as rarely as it can do so."

"Perhaps." No, it was true. Definitely true, no perhaps about it, but he did not like to admit it. "I still have to look at him while we travel together."

The muffled snort-laugh from Dilshad seemed honestly amused, if nothing else.

"And what does that matter?" Her look was arch, and Dima found himself without a good answer. Why _did_ it matter that he had to stare at the half-breed's awkward to downright ridiculous-looking features, even if his face was pretty enough? Again, no answer came, and Dima turned away from the scene in front of him to watch the feli beside him instead.

"Does _this_ conversation truly matter? Could I amuse you with another sort of conversation, with an entirely different topic, instead?"

She turned to him with her single green eye sparkling, the smile unselfconsciously wide despite her missing teeth, and she leaned in towards him, ears now both tilted towards him.

"I might be convinced you have something worthwhile to talk about," she said with a chuckle, hooking her arm in his, and led the way out of the room. Dima glanced back only once, uncertain why he even did so, and somehow still met the half-breed's mismatched eyes across the space and the heads of the felin gathered between them. He had the inane realization, despite that it wasn't visible at this distance, that Juri and Dilshad shared their green eye colour. That, too, didn't really matter, so Dima turned away and left.

***  
Watching Dima's disappearing back and the sweep of his long, elegant tail, the tip of it curling around the tip of Dilshad's slightly darker one, Juri tore his gaze away and focused on finished the song before he lost the tune, feeling weirdly lost. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. There was nothing to feel anything at all about, aside from frustration, when it came to Dima. The man _was_ attractive, but many people were. Dima was also an unrepentant asshole. Or rather, his prejudice made him an asshole. When those didn't get in the way, Dima was fine. _More_ than fine, but it wasn't like he got much exposure to that. It just made those moments when Dima was nicer than otherwise stand out all the more starkly, and he was _stupid_. As they reached the end of the song, Golshahn put the drum down on her lap and her hands on the drum, narrow amber eyes aimed to the doorway like the arrow she'd aimed at him and Dima.

"I would hope he did not go with her because he wants to get to you," Golshahn muttered, and it was nearly a hiss, her soft voice only making the edge to her tone more startling. The clear protectiveness of Dilshad, though Juri doubted she needed it, was rather precious. He did not smile about it for once, though. Golshahn probably wouldn't take it very well, and he knew it was Setarra that was more fond of him, even if Golshahn had taught him the song they'd just played.

"What?" The short laugh that spilled out without Juri meaning to was maybe a little rougher than he would have liked. Maybe more revealing as well, but he hoped not. "He doesn't care one whit what I think, and even if he did and he can be petty, he obviously went with her because she's attractive."

Pausing, Juri threw another glance towards the empty doorway himself, one ear turned towards Setarra's approach as she thumped down between him and Golshahn, throwing strong arms around both of their shoulders.

"And, I think he went with her because she sort of reminds him of his own people."

Golshahn's sharp look slowly turned more considering, though she didn't look much more pleased as she tapped unsheathed claws gently over the head of her drum. Setarra, though, was looking at _him_ , bright blue eyes nearly glowing in her dark-skinned face.

"Are you looking to get your heart hurt, paying such attention to someone who you just said 'doesn't care one whit' about what you think?"

He did not blush. He didn't have a crush, either, because he knew better than that. No matter how intense Dima's blue eyes were, or how thoughtful he sometimes revealed himself to be. 

"No." Juri shook his head, looking away from Setarra's stare and the ear Golshahn had turned towards him. He noted that while she still was looking more towards the empty doorway than to them, her foot wound around one of Setarra's ankles in lieu of using her tail. "I'm not stupid, and not in the business of trying to throw myself at someone who thinks I'm ugly and not feli enough."

" _Ugly_?" Setarra's voice rose embarrassingly high for a brief moment, but no one paid attention - there were lots of other loud conversations going on, now that the music had ended for the moment. She reached out, tucking a finger under his chin and tilted it up. "This here?"

"That's _not_ what I meant, you know," Juri said with an eyeroll and a small, wry smile, still enjoying the small flare of warmth her comment caused. He knew his face wasn't what most people would call 'ugly', but that wasn't what he'd been talking about. Wasn't what most _felin_ , if not most (or any) humans cared about. "I mean this."

Gestured to the patches of fur on his forearms, and held up one leg, trying not to pay much attention to the obvious differences between his feet and everyone else's. He knew he was attractive enough, but not... in ways where it made up for the rest, a lot of the time. He'd been rejected often enough because of that, and the other half of the time, if it wasn't someone he knew, they went for it because they were curious about said differences. It wasn't often much better.

"Sure, you look and sound a little weird."

Golshahn made a chirruping noise in the back of her throat at the blunt, but even-handed comment. The look she threw him was apologetic, but it was one of the better ways anyone had called his obvious differences. Setarra hadn't sounded disgusted, or mocking, or anything else; it'd been more _dismissive_ , which was weirdly reassuring.

"But look, you've got one of the finest set of ears and tail I've seen, and _this_?" Reaching out, Setarra stuck her hand into the curls right above where his hair was tied into the ponytail trailing down his chest, and picked the whole mass up. Her whole hand was now submerged in the curls, the light catching on the strands. "Anyone who doesn't want to touch this doesn't know how to live."

Finally laughing and with a maybe revealing amount of warmth in his face, Juri glanced to Golshahn, head cocked.

"Did she make you grow your hair out, holding your drum hostage for it?"

Setarra made an offended noise as she dropped his hair while Golshahn smiled, as serene as it was sharp.

"No, but I have threatened to cut it off more than once, to make her behave." 

By the look on Setarra's face, a tragic cast of suffering, Golshahn was serious, which just made Juri laugh harder, though it cut off into a sliding sort of warble when Setarra flicked his nose.

"Either way," she said firmly, giving him another flick on his forehead, "you are more than just your _looks_ , and you're as sweet as your face."

"I don't think he likes 'sweet'," Juri said, pulling a grimace but reluctantly smiling at the choice of words. Golshahn snorted, unsheathed claws marching over her drum again, carefully. It'd been made with a lot of love from what little resources they had, after all.

"I think that one is letting his prejudices cover his brain and eyes both."

Setarra promptly burst out laughing and leaned in to kiss the corner of Golshahn's mouth, while Juri followed Golshahn's gaze to where she was staring at the empty doorway. Eyes _and_ brain? He wasn't sure. The first, probably, but the second..? Some people just couldn't deal with his attitude, he knew that. That was _fine_. He just wished Dima could stop turning his dislike into a weapon. It made everything so much harder.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juri and Dima leave the hidden village and set out again, but all is not well, between them or with the situation.

The storm only lasted three days this time, proving Dilshad's prediction about the end of the storm season true. The punishing winds abated on the second day, leaving only intermittent sharp bursts to whip the rain around and while there was a drizzle, still, on the fourth, the air was soft and warm again, lacking the bite that'd brought sleet the first two days. They'd get wet, and Dima had no more love of getting wet outside of cleaning himself than any other feli - the half-breed included, he'd seen his grimace when he said they should leave today, but he hadn't protested - but they should not waste too much time.

Dilshad, after thanking Juri for sharing his skill to entertain them, turned to him with a tilted smile, and a brief hand to his cheek. That he could look her in the eyes was as novel as the shade of her fur, this far south.

"You're sure you wouldn't rather wait a month and a couple weeks more?" She glanced between them, strong, sculpted eyebrows arched. "We could shelter you for that long, at least."

Dima frowned, even as he thought about it, knowing what she was talking about. That long... it _would_ be an easy solution, since he would not be alone with only the half-breed around, but...

"You already have trouble with slave catchers, don't you?" The half-breed, surprisingly, as he looked up to Dilshad with a frown of his own. "If we stay, if he's still looking for us, we'd just add to that. I could, uh..." He trailed off, flicking a glance to Dima, just staring up at him for a surprisingly unreadable moment, then shrugged.

"I don't really mind continuing alone, though."

An even easier solution, to all this. It'd cut down on having to drag the half-breed with him, having to _deal with him_ , especially since he would leave here with supplies, less of a need to rely on what Juri had, and if they separated now, they might be less obvious. Of course, he would not be able to approach any towns on his own, the collar and cuffs still stuck on him, and, besides that... Dima looked down, not to meet that bright, mismatched stare still turned away from him, but studying the rest. The half-breed was no more stronger now than he'd been three days ago, and the knife was in the bag Dima had thrown over his shoulder.

Aside from purely practical need, it was less likely anyone would try to apprehend Juri on sight for being a visibly escaped slave, Dima also found it more likely that Juri would make it back to Spears' Rest _with him_ rather than alone. He was not responsible for the half-breed, and he didn't care so much that he'd put his safety above his own, but, he had helped him out of the chains. It would be a... pity, he supposed, if Juri's curiosity got him stuck so far from home.

"No." Shaking his head Dima looked back to Dilshad. "The offer is tempting, but he's correct. We might draw more risk of you being discovered, if the search is extended. You have worked too hard for that."

These feli had freed themselves, and it'd be a bad way to repay the couple days of shelter, clothing and food with discovery and having to fight to _stay free_. Dilshad smiled, the expression bearing a shade of regret before it was wiped out by a nod.

"Be careful. There _are_ slave catchers in the area. The storm should've forced them to retreat some, but you might be at a greater risk of running into them than we are, at the moment."

If they'd managed to go undiscovered for as long as this settlement implied, she was probably correct. A few short good byes later, they walked out into the rain, and while Dima refused to flinch at the feeling of the soft drizzle enveloping him, Juri's twitch and the shudder of his tail from base to tip was certainly the same way he felt about this. If they should have a chance to reach a port town where they might gain passage before too long though, lingering would ill serve them.

The rain stopped come evening, and the next morning dawned as bright, if not as hot, as any of the days during the weeks between the storms while they'd crossed the wasteland. It was actually pleasant to walk again. 

Pleasant, and, admittedly, quiet. He hadn't truly expected Juri to abide this long by his order, uttered mostly in annoyance as it'd been. Juri didn't pull his flute out, though. To be honest, he'd expected the days cooped up in the ruined city during the storm to be a lot more aggravating than they had been, but aside from the sense of constant, coiled energy from Juri, he'd talked... surprisingly little, and when he'd talked, it had not all been as inane as he'd expected. Perhaps Dilshad was correct, at least insofar that he was making this trip more of a burden than it truly had to be. It still took Dima almost another hour before he decided to give in, annoyed at himself.

"You may play whenever you feel like it," he said, and perhaps enjoyed the sight of Juri almost stumbling from his words, or maybe more what he was saying than that he'd suddenly chosen to talk. And if Dima had expected grudging thanks, or a pointed comment about what had changed for him to change his mind, he would clearly be left wanting. What came instead was an open flash of a smile, warmly brilliant and lighting the mismatched eyes up from within for a brief moment. There wasn't really any difference to this smile compared to the other ones Juri had tried to aim his way since they met, except it was, if anything, more bright, but it somehow rankled less. Seemed more honest.

"Thank you. I promise not to abuse the privilege." And there was the teasing again, apparently as impossible to hinder or suppress as the rain or snow during the summer storms in this region.

"I'm sure you won't," Dima said with a snort, feeling maybe the beginnings of a brief smile tug on his lips before he squashed it, a little annoyed at himself. It wasn't like this actually was important, but the half-breed had abided by his demand, even when he truly didn't need his permission to play his instrument. Yet he _had_ still kept from it for weeks. 

It had honestly been a little surprising, and watching him play for the amusement of the free felin... Juri was not bad at it. It was also clear that it was relaxing to the half-breed to play, the way his shoulders dropped as he fished his flute out and put it together, lifting it to his mouth. Turning his gaze towards the slight suggestion of an animal path through the thickening grass they were walking through, Dima still turned a ear towards the music. 

It really wasn't as grating as he'd thought it was weeks ago.

***  
It was a little ridiculous how much it mattered that Dima had taken back his angry demand that he not play, even more so since Juri knew full well that he hadn't needed to listen. That he even had obeyed for this long was a blend of stubborn annoyance that Dima _take it back_ before he gave in, because he shouldn't have said it at all to begin with - it wasn't like he was bad at playing! - and the genuine desire to get along.

Even when Dima didn't deserve it. Juri _knew_ he didn't, as often as Dima was an asshole about things when he didn't need to be, and the only thing that kept that desire alive was the flickers of something better he kept seeing from Dima. In the end maybe he didn't know better, but wanting to be friendly wasn't falling for him, so it didn't count.

It mostly even felt like the truth, so Juri pushed the rest away and focused on what he was doing. Let the music fall out as it wished, half songs he knew, half melodies coming from his own feelings or inspired by their surroundings, gentling and brightening the further they got from the wasteland. It was _relaxing_ to be able to do this again, and he hadn't quite realized how much he'd missed it until now. It hadn't been quite so obvious when he'd been playing with Golshahn and with others around them, but with only Dima next to him things were back to the 'normal' that'd developed over the last month. The difference was that, when he glanced up at Dima, while his expression was a flat line of some vague displeasure, one ear was turned towards Juri, and he wasn't telling him to stop. This didn't mean the idea that popped up in his head was a good one, but Juri found himself grinning anyway, finishing the current melody pulling his fingers and then lowered his flute, ears cocked and a jaunty curl to his tail.

"So, maybe I could get you t---"

"No." It wasn't a sneer as might have been expected, just a flat refusal as Dima kept looking straight ahead, but with one ear still turned towards him. "Don't finish that question."

If he wasn't supposed to laugh, he lost that battle. Juri quickly collected himself, not wanting to push Dima too far by seeming obnoxious. He'd known the answer to the intended question was going to be 'no', since there was no reason he'd have changed his mind about teaching Juri the songs he knew, but the way Dima had said no was so vastly different from the last time he didn't mind it at all. Maybe it wasn't really any sign of actual change, but it was still better than before.

Better, too, that Dima had a blanket of his own, donated much like the extra set of clothes packed away in the bag he was carrying, meaning Juri no longer had to share his bedroll and could use it all together again. Maybe it wasn't as much extra resources as might have made the trip a lot easier, but it was certainly _enough_. As they walked, the half-open landscape broken up by hills and rocky ditches among high, thick grass led into a series of ravines going vaguely south-west. It was a boon, because the high, rocky walls shielded them from the sunlight. If there'd ever been water flowing here, it was long in the past, but the evidence had been left behind with many hollows and even caves found along the ravines' floor and partway up the cliff walls.

It was a pretty good place to find shelter, and as the sun slowly lowered, Juri kept looking around, but something else kept tugging on his thoughts.

"I hope they'll be okay," he finally said while they peered into the shadows of a hollow not deep or big enough to serve as shelter for two, "and that they won't get found."

"They have lasted this long," Dima said with a dismissive gesture, hand and ears both flicking as he bent down to break off several dry, thorny branches from a dead bush as he walked, but Juri didn't miss the faint frown on his face, "and Dilshad clearly knows what she's doing."

She must, if they'd lasted as long as six years in the same place, so it wasn't really _their_ place to doubt that she wouldn't know if she'd need to move her little settlement. It was more that Juri remembered that Golshahn had said there'd been an abandoned camp close enough they'd passed it on a daily hunt. It seemed worryingly close.

"This one is deep enough," Dima said, voice only slightly raised since the ravine liked to amplify and send echoes of every little noise down its winding paths, from voices to rocks falling and the call of birds. Everything sounded a lot closer than it actually was. Throwing a look down the shadowed path they'd been walking as it disappeared past several bends in the ravine's walls, Juri frowned. It was empty and he couldn't see anything aside from a rodent of some sort scurrying from one rock to the other, drawing his attention like a candle in the dark. A single, small rodent no larger than one of his fingers wasn't worth the effort however, and they did have food enough for now, so Juri turned away and ducked into the cave, long and low but at least high enough to the ceiling near the entrance that Dima could just (if barely) stand upright.

The urge to make a comment about it, buoyed from a couple days in friendly company, Dima giving in first about whether he could play his flute around him or not and the brief exchanges during the day, had Juri already sucking in a breath to give voice to it before he thought better of it, or, honestly, could think about whether he should say anything at all.

"It's a wonder you don't hit your head more often, as tall as you are," Juri laughed, but as he looked up it got stuck in his throat, and anything else he'd intended to say evaporated in the face of Dima's expression.

"It's a wonder no one told you to shut up or change language in the last couple days," Dima said, tone as dark as his face. All earlier patience clearly gone and drawing attention to Juri's issues with feli language for the first time since he'd expressed his opinion about it the first time. Maybe it was just because for the first time in a month, Juri _wasn't_ the only one he'd heard speaking a feli dialect, but that didn't help in the least. 

The heat that rampaged through him was cloying, sticking any words in his throat and the noise that came out instead as he snagged one of the just barely done skewers of meat was as close to a proper hiss as he could make it.

"Maybe _you_ should shut up for once!" Standing up, he stormed over to the cave's entrance and ate his dinner there instead, every bite large and sticking in his throat. Running a hand through his hair while he ate, Juri dragged it down to his throat and rubbed it, swallowing another bite heavily. Wished that comment hadn't hurt as much as it did.

He'd gotten careless, since, even if not _all_ of the small settlement of escaped slaves had been interested in talking to him, most had at least been pleasant, if not outright friendly. Most had refrained from making any comments, if he discounted that last conversation with Setarra and Golshahn. At the most there'd been looks, and those were easier to ignore. In comparision Dima never lacked for opinion and words to express them with and seemed to care even less if he should say them or not. Everything he said and did seemed to come with an imperious expectation of not just being listened to, but that, _of course_ , he had the right to say (or do) whatever he wanted. 

Who the hell taught him manners, anyway? Being attractive didn't make up for the rest of it, when he let it spill everywhere. If Dima could just have the decency to _always_ be an obvious asshole, it'd make things easier. If only because Juri would stop forgetting to let his guard down and hope for more. Why he kept trying, he didn't know. Or well, no. He _did_ know; because he was stupid.

Stupid, because he kept hoping, if only just for some damn _friendliness_. Apparently that was too much to ask for, and that... should be okay. It really shouldn't matter - he'd had people dislike him before. But most of those people he hadn't been travelling with for a month and they were nowhere near a coast yet. As long as he was wishing, if not friendliness then maybe some tolerance and willingness to answer questions, because he was curious about the northern tribes, curious if there was any truth to that story about the Fortunes and the lake, curious about how Dima had grown up. Interested in Dima in general, unfortunately.

Finishing the skewer, Juri took a couple steps out into the ravine, tipping his head back. The moon wasn't high enough yet to be seen from this narrow angle, but the sky was otherwise clear and revealing a dizzying spray of stars, vast and breathtaking. Indifferent to anything but their own existence.

When he turned around and walked back in, he felt... if not better, then at least more _composed_. Put away the things Dima had cleaned, except for the knife - he must have taken care of that himself, since he kept it, which _was_ honestly the best use of it. There was no urge to do much of anything, especially with Dima still sitting by the fire they'd built up, so instead Juri just rolled himself up in his bedroll and tried to convince his body to sleep. It was easier than he thought it'd be, as he watched the flicker of the fire on the water-smoothed wall of the cave, and not even when the suggested shadow of Dima joined the flickering dance every now and then was enough to disturb his cooling mood and mind.

Juri woke up to an explosion of pain in his side and a warbling yowl torn from him, scratching at his throat unpleasantly.

"This one's male too. Pity, I'd hoped for a female."

Struggling to roll around and get out of the blanket, Juri froze on his knees, staring at the barely-there sheen of a blade thrust up against him, aimed at his throat. Looking past it, Juri ignored the man, the sword, looking for something more important while he tried to catch his breath, still feeling the kick he'd gotten to the side.

On the other side of the burned out fire stood an impressively tall woman and a shorter man, both wielding swords and using them to pin Dima down. He seemed to be unhurt, and Juri could only guess that he was furious as he was impressively blank-faced, with his ears barely turned back in comparison to how Juri's were pinned back, and his tail was still. Only the tip of it twitched momentarily, as if it wanted to flick but Dima wouldn't allow it.

"But, I guess that doesn't matter, eh?" A rough laugh, the accent deep enough Juri was hard pressed to keep up with what the man holding the sword to his throat was saying - though that mattered far less when his other hand snapped out and grabbed his hair, pulling his head up by it and ignoring the hiss he couldn't quite suppress. "Not since they're both as pretty as any cats are, no matter if they're male or female, aren't you?"

There was a mock-lilt in the voice on those last few words, insultingly close to how you'd talk to an actual animal pet. The man was missing several teeth, but the gleam in his eyes was sharp, obvious even in the lack of light, though it didn't last long; a lamp that'd so-far apparently been kept covered was uncovered to bathe the cave in a dim, yellowish glow, soft and even compared to the firelight from earlier. It would've made the cave seem cozy, if it weren't for the gleam of weapons the light now caught on, weren't for the expressions on the humans' faces.

"Selling these two should make up for how careful the others are being lately," the woman spoke up, her full-toothed grin no more pleasant than her fellows, "and maybe it could make up for the emotional damages of having to rough it out here with the likes of you." She scowled, tilting her sword closer to Dima's throat - probably because she reached out with her other hand, fingertips brushing against the edge of his rounded ear. Juri thought he would've turned it out of her reach, but he kept stone still, with the only evidence of his opinion the bloodless line of his lips thinning further.

"You're just sour you had to do some real work for once! But if you want _this one_ , we better tie him up before that," the man beside her said with an obnoxiously high laugh - barely a man, Juri judged by the smooth curve of his cheek, still not flattened out by age _or_ showing any signs of frequent shaving. "He looks like he'd be trouble."

Given half a chance Dima would be far more than just 'trouble', but Juri felt annoyed at being implicitly dismissed. Not that they were entirely wrong about the relative levels of damage and danger, but he wasn't harmless!

"What do you say?" With an indulgent chuckle and with the sword sliding along the side of his throat like a caress in itself, the man holding Juri by his hair eased the grip up, letting his hand trail down through his curls slowly, skirting the base of his ear that brought a shiver he couldn't suppress, then down to his chin, dirty thumb stroking his jaw as he tilted Juri's head up by that grip, instead. "Will _you_ be trouble?"

There were only three of them. Three were also more than enough, but they were definitely being overconfident, so _surely_... Juri flicked another glance away from the man staring down at him to Dima, who frowned, just barely.

Maybe. They might be able to do _something_. So he shook his head, lowering his eyes to the ground.

"Your mother suckled cunt-juice from an orcish woman like it was breast milk and then fed it to you." He chose to say it in his native dialect though, which would be utterly foreign to these humans, the rolling hiss dragged out further by his speech issues, but right then it felt good. To say it, to say it _like that_ , even as his heart was kicking his chest from the inside. Maybe especially because he _did_ catch the slight eyebrow-raise from Dima out of the corner of his eyes; clearly he'd understood enough to pick up the gist of the swear.

"Y'know, can they even understand us? They're both dressed weirdly, and I don't recognize a word of what he just said," the boy said, easier to understand than either the man or the woman, but even if he could have understood none of what they were saying, he certainly understood the intent. Not hard at all to understand when the man holding his sword to his throat laughed, let go of his chin to snag his hair again, and then promptly mashed his face against his crotch.

Juri's convulsively instinctive attempt to jerk himself away stilled when he felt the bite of the sword against the base of his ear.

"I think they'll understand just fine. We don't need 'em to do anything but be nice kitties, after all. The trainers can teach them enough language to be _useful_." 

Not breathing wasn't an option, but Juri held his breath as long as he could, his tail lashing behind him, blanket now at least on the ground instead of tangling him up. Most of what he could smell was dirt and sweat, but there wasn't enough fabric between his nose and the hardening length to _not_ get a whiff of human musk and arousal when he finally _had_ to take a breath.

"Don't you, kitty?"

Juri glanced up reluctantly while the human rubbed his face against his now fully hard cock confined in the ragged trousers, and the only reason he didn't shudder at the look of greedy _want_ on the man's face, not obscured enough by a surprisingly neatly kept beard to take the edge off the expression, was because he was afraid the sword would accidentally cut into his ear.

Exhaling, Juri slumped. The tension that'd marginally kept his face just that shade away from the pressure of worn fabric and the hardness underneath disappeared. Shuddering, he slowly shifted his feet and lifted a hand to grasp the back of one of the man's knees in support. His tail was an even, still weight behind him, ears still pinned back.

"See?" The man chuckled, fingers combing through Juri's curls briefly, raising his voice to address the boy behind him. "I'll let you go after if you're interested, since you're gonna have to help tie that one up first so Jinan can have her own fun."

The hand in his hair let go as the slave catcher went for the fastenings of his pants. It was a moment of inattention, of trusting his surrender.

It'd cost him. 

Juri flexed his claws and buried them in the back of the human's knee, tearing through fabric, flesh and tendon while he dropped away from the man's crotch and flung himself sideways over the loud, piercing shriek as the man collapsed, his sword tumbling to the ground. Twisting around and getting his feet under him in the same movement, Juri lunged forward again.

Across the fire, the youngest of the three went flying back into the cavern's wall while Dima twisted around, reaching under the bag he'd been using as a pillow. Light flashed on metal, and Juri flinched at the muted grunt, but he couldn't keep looking. His hand, claws still extended, slammed down on top of the man's just as he found the hilt of his sword.

There was no scream this time, just a snarl.

"I'm gonna strip your hide and leave you raw inside and out," he hissed as they fought over the sword's hilt, his hand convulsing every time Juri flexed his fingers, driving his claws back and then in, deeper, "I'd cut those ears and tail off if that wouldn't lower the price we'd get."

Shuddering, Juri still smiled, one ear turned behind him and definitely _not_ missing the soft shuffle of leather on rock.

"It's good to have dreams," he agreed, far more blithely than he felt, and shifted his grip enough to get the upper hand. Yanking the man's arm with him as he leaped clear over him, he jerked him around, right into the path of another sword. The man convulsed and grunted when his young compatriot couldn't halt his swing in time and cut a slash into the older's side before he jumped back, ashen under his dark skin.

He was a little sad for the human, that'd be unsettling to do to someone you knew and didn't intend to do it to, but mostly he was focused on snatching the sword up. Lunged forward and put the ass out of his misery.

"No!" The kid's scream (kid, he was probably only a couple years younger than Juri was and doing things like _these_ , did he deserve the courtesy of the implied innocence?) drowned out the man's gurgle, but despite the distress, his lunge was coordinated. Coordinated, and he clearly knew what he was doing. "How dare you---!"

Juri didn't.

He retreated, sword low in front of him, away from the fireplace and Dima and his own opponent, who was fighting with Dima for control of the knife as he'd pressed passed her guard. There was a huge, red stain spreading over the shoulder he had pressed against the shaft of the spear, to keep the woman's arm and weapon as engaged as he could with his shoulder injured.

Hesitating for a moment, Juri met the young man's narrow eyes, nearly amber in the light from the lamp. Took a slow, sliding step sideways, which prompted the human to lunge forward. 

"Rotten animal!" The clash of their swords was at an awkward angle, the hit vibrating up Juri's hands, and if he'd stayed still, the boy would surely have managed to force the sword out of his hands. But he didn't stay still. "Jina---!"

He dropped away from the pressure, managing to keep his grip on the weapon as he leaped again, meeting Dima's eyes over the woman's shoulder for a split second. The woman, of course, tried to look behind her as well, following Dima's gaze. She wasn't fast enough. He clipped her with his shoulder, and if he had less reflexes than he did, if he'd been any slower, he'd have slammed face-first into the cavern's wall. Instead he twisted around in time to meet the slash intended for his back with his sword, but this time his hands got numb all the way up his forearms, and the sword clattered to the ground as he lost his grip on it. The only reason the boy didn't have a chance to take advantage was the woman slumping to the ground and Dima leaping over her body, driving the young man to the ground.

The gasp was wet and cut off sharply.

Shuddering, Juri slumped, just for a moment, against the cool rock behind him, massaging one tingling hand with the other. He'd killed someone. He'd... he'd had to, but he'd never killed before, and maybe (probably) the man, all of the three of them, had deserved it, but _he'd never killed anyone before_. Animals weren't the same thing. Juri's heart and breath were both rattling in his chest as he watched Dima, coloured like an inverted shadow where he loomed over the body of the last human, blood spilling out in a pool around them. Dima stood up with a grunt, briefly clutching his shoulder, and all thoughts of what he'd done disappeared as Juri remembered the blood on Dima's shirt. It didn't matter that he'd insulted him just hours before, that the cut of it still hurt with the shape and colour of a deep bruise; he still wanted him to be alright.

"Dima---!"

"Are you injured?"

Staggering to a stop, Juri blinked, incredulous and confused, but the fierce stare kicked him into answering before Dima decided he had to subject himself to checking by hand. He was surprised Dima had asked at all, especially when he'd been so aggravated earlier. Though... he had, also, pulled him along instantly when he thought he needed to protect him, both when they needed to get to shelter and when Golshahn and Setarra had found them.

"N--- uh, no. I'm not." Technically. Not really. His face felt like it was crawling, now that he was paying attention while trying not to think about having had it pressed against the human's crotch, which brought a full-body shudder before he shook his head, reaching out - freezing as Dima reared back. " _You_ are though. Let me---"

"I'm _fine_."

That was dismissal, defensive and _stupid_. Juri ignored the warnings, verbal and non-verbal both, and grabbed the wrist of the arm that hadn't been injured, and yanked.

"Oh, I see, spurting blood and leaking all of Avas' gift given you out through your veins is _fine_?" It might have been teasing, if he didn't feel so wound up, one second from flat out screaming at the idiot. He'd killed someone, had that human mash his face into his crotch and intended things Juri wouldn't think about, and Dima was going to insist he was _fine_? Juri pulled again, and Dima dropped his knife to the ground, his ears just barely twitching back, and let himself be pulled over to the lamp.

"We hardly have the resources to deal with this. All the fabric we have is too dirty to use, and an infection would be worse than leaving it as it is and simply keeping it clean with water," Dima said as he gestured between them and then to the dead humans. He still sat down, folding himself up with surprising grace and Juri rolled his eyes, somehow finding a smile.

"We don't need any of _that_ , as long as your wound isn't too large. Want me t---"

Of course, now that Juri had dammed up whatever leak the injury and Dima's own sense of pride had made in his common sense to accept help and healing, Dima would of course not accept _too much_ of it, and pulled his shirt off himself, despite the aborted flinch wrenching his shoulders and skittering down his back, making his tail shudder for a brief moment. Sighing, Juri quickly retrieved his flute's case and knelt down next to Dima, reaching out but not touching the stain of red on Dima's shoulder. The wound was still bleeding, the flow disconcertingly heavy, but the wound itself wasn't any larger than the spear's head that'd been used to make it. The cut of it was neat and clean, too, didn't even go all the way through to Dima's back.

"I can fix this," Juri said quietly, feeling a wave of relief and focus with that realization. It was simple, straightforward. He could deal with that, which meant he didn't need to think about having killed someone, no matter what the man had done, been trying to do, had _intended_ to do. Had threatened to do. Didn't have to think about the things the man _had_ done, before he managed to kill him.

His hands were steady as he got his flute out, put it together while Dima pressed a large hand to the wound, white fur stained luridly crimson by the blood. That had to stop. Had to _be stopped_.

Juri didn't need to keep staring to know what he was doing, so he closed his eyes and let the music come.

At first it _was_ just music, but like when he'd opened the lock that kept Dima chained to the floor, soon it fell into the right melody, and he found the right spot to replay it, repeat it. It spilled like water out of him, as soothingly cool as it was a flow of warmth, to make up for the blood that was spilling out. Stop that. Cool it, thicken it. Pull on the flesh, urge the body to work, let the magic fill the gaps, fill the gash in.

With a shudder, Juri stopped.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With no more unexpected interruptions, they manage to get to Kushrrata while Dima manages to show some kindnesses. Now the question is, how to pass through the city?
> 
> The solution is unsatisfying to both of them, but if it gets them through safely, it's a price they're willing to pay.

The cavern echoed the sound back to them, clear, reverberating notes that tingled against the skin, made him feel a little cleaner despite there definitely being a few spatters of blood on him. Opening his eyes again, Juri found he lost the question he'd been intending to ask when he looked straight into intensely blue eyes.

The moment dragged, held... unfroze, as Dima blinked and dropped his hand, dropping his gaze with it and drawing Juri to look down as well.

"Despite..." Dima didn't finish that trailed off mutter as he brushed the partially-healed wound, hard to see thanks to the blood still staining his fur and skin, but while it was tender and could easily be pulled open, it was definitely closed. "Thank you."

Juri's breath caught at the low, surprisingly soft words, the weight of them sliding down his spine. Nothing he had expected, considering that gratitude had certainly not been forthcoming back when he'd freed Dima from the chains.

"You're welcome," Juri said, found himself smiling without meaning to, the smile as soft as the words had been, cautious like he usually wasn't, but Dima was so damn _difficult_. There was nothing but another frown, considering, almost, before Dima stood up, briefly casting him in shadow when he stood between him and the lamp. He moved more carefully than he usually would, but it certainly didn't stop him as he walked over to the man who Juri had killed and squatted down.

Going through his pockets. Juri blinked, scrunching his nose and not quite able to believe what he was seeing. Dima shouldn't touch him, but more than that, taking whatever he had was an entirely different offence. He probably had the right idea, as it was more practical than ignoring any useful items the humans might carry. 

Looking around the small cavern, seeming both much bigger and smaller than it had when they walked in here, Juri stared at the three dead bodies spread around them, blood spreading out over the rocky ground and soaking up into the patches of earth. His heart was only now beginning to slow from thundering away against his ribcage, and with nothing else to focus on, he wished there was a body of water large enough close by to wash in. He hadn't really gotten much of any blood on him, but the spatters of it seemed to burn, his scalp seemed to crawl, and half his face was still prickling. He shuddered, swallowing, and tugged on his hair.

"That went well," he said, ignoring the tightness of his own voice, and Dima snorted where he was now kneeling next to the dead woman.

"Luck that opportunity presented itself so quickly. They were careless," he said, dismissive and rough, and Juri supplied the rest in his head, his throat tight. Luck there'd been an opportunity before they'd had a chance to rape him. Rape _both_ of them.

"Still," Dima muttered while he pulled out a small pouch, shaking it to reveal it contained at least a small amount of coins, voice barely audible even to enhanced feli hearing, "you used the moment well, and you aren't for their entertainment."

Staring at the bowed back, the still, neutral angle of the ears and tail, Juri felt strangely reassured by the grim disgust in the words. Far more reassured than he would have been if Dima had offered some uncharacteristic concern or commiseration. It was, perhaps, ridiculous to get stuck on so little, but Juri wasn't convinced he'd have been given those words, in even that tone of voice, weeks before, the same as the thank you for healing the injury. Maybe that was ungenerous, Juri far preferring to think the best of most people, but it was a thought hard to escape given Dima's attitude. He'd gotten this kindness now, though, which Dima certainly hadn't needed to give. 

Stealing another glance before he could be caught actually staring, Juri looked away from lamp-lit, pale hair and broad shoulders and tried to stomp on the little flicker that was trying to reach up from his stomach towards his chest. Like he'd said to Setarra, he refused to get a crush on someone who barely tolerated him. Something that would be a lot easier if Dima was nothing _but_ a prejudiced asshole, but there were flashes of someone who was kinder, _interesting_ and interested in what he had to say. 

Only flashes, though, and he wasn't about to humiliate himself by trying to throw himself at someone who clearly was disgusted not just by what he looked like but what he _sounded_ like, just on the off-chance he might still be willing to sleep with him.

A single, burning moment wasn't what he'd want, anyway, and... in the end, did it really matter what Dima thought of him? They lived on practically different ends of the continent, so even on the vague off chance he got better and then, even _more_ of a chance, actually reciprocated any feelings Juri definitely didn't have, what was the point, just a little bit of fun?

With a grunt that scratched against the back of his throat, not quite a hiss, Juri stood up. Stretching, just for the tension still lingering, and while he turned towards his bedroll, couldn't convince himself to lay down. 

There were corpses in here. Corpses he'd helped put there. He couldn't just _stand there_ either though, and instead crossed the floor to stand at the cavern's mouth, but couldn't even remain there, though the brush of cool night air was sweet against his overheated skin. He turned again, walked back to the bedroll. Stopped to stare at it, trying not to glance anywhere else, but he could see two bodies out of the corner of his eyes like this.

Turning again, Juri froze for a second when he met Dima's eyes, but determinedly paced past him back to the opening again.

"Sleep would be a good idea," Dima said, and for once, he sounded... if not kind, then neutral. Maybe even cautious.

"I'm not going to be able to sleep," Juri said without turning around. It was late, but not yet so early there was even false dawn to be hinted anywhere at the top of the ravine's walls. Could he come up with an excuse to start them early, despite that? Dima was silent for almost a minute, then shifted behind him.

"We could pack up and start early. Find water to wash off." It was said in the same neutral, even nonchalant, tone of voice, and Juri was as grateful for that as he'd been surprised at the gratitude earlier, surprised and relieved for the comment about what he _wasn't for_.

"... Sounds like a good idea," he whispered, loud enough Dima would still hear it, and turned back one more time, though this time it was easy to kneel when he came to his bedroll to pack it up.

Dima kept one of the swords, which meant Juri could put his knife back in the bag he carried. They only really took what little money the humans had had on them, since the lamp was only useful with oil to supply it. Since there was none with the humans, it must surely have been at the campsite the humans had weathered the storm at somewhere nearby, but wasting time to find it wasn't something they were willing to do. With so many little caves and holes in these ravines, it'd take too long. At this point, being able to come back to Spears' Rest before late summer was obviously not going to happen, and Juri had no idea how they'd solve that. He especially wasn’t looking forward to what they’d have to deal with aside from spending so much time with Dima, but that would be a problem for later.

Dima left his shirt with the corpses, which was a pity because Juri _had_ quite liked the simple, repeating embroidery at the collar, hem of both the short sleeves and around the bottom of it, but with the hole the spear had left and the huge stain of blood, just adding to the faint, rusty stains on the back, it was pretty much done for. Since Dima did now have something else to wear, why bother with it? Despite that the blood had dried to a rusty brown against Dima’s pale fur and skin, he didn’t pull out the other shirt, leaving him exposed to the still-cool air.

Just, maybe, flicked a glance sideways every now and then because there was nothing wrong with just _looking_. Meanwhile, the slash of sky above them turned from dark to steely gray and, slowly, warmer colours. It turned Dima's white fur violet-tinged while it left the stain of dry blood grossly stark in comparison. At least he knew the wound was a tender pink and _closed_ under that gore. It was the only real proof of what'd happened just hours ago.

"It doesn't help thinking about it," Dima said while they walked, and Juri almost stumbled. Caught himself and swallowed.

"I'm not," he said, but his voice was softer and more quiet than he thought it'd be, and there was a noise suspiciously like a mutilated mewl at the end. How embarrassing. Dima didn't say anything about it, though. Instead he tilted his head back, eyes on the distant trails of high, thin shreds of clouds far up, and started a recount of his first attempt to bring in prey to his mother. He’d been four, and he'd sneaked off to try and get a roe deer, had had to settle for a rabbit, and been found in a creek with nothing after getting his fur full of burrs.

Juri couldn't find a laugh for the conclusion of the story, but the cold lump in his stomach had softened enough he smiled, and hesitantly told Dima of the first attempt that'd been made to teach him to swim. He'd panicked, of course. By the time he was done, it was late morning and the bottom of the ravine had filled with a tiny stream, barely more than a trickle. They didn't speak after that, but the short conversation had served its purpose, and the little stream replaced their voices, filling the ravine with quiet tinkling. Close to noon, when they finally stopped and Dima sheathed the sword after having carried it drawn up until now, it was a sprightly burble and more than useful enough for their purposes. It was unfortunately not deep or wide enough to take a bath in, but washing his hands and face was all Juri could ask for at this point. He watched the little stream turn briefly and repeatedly pink as Dima scooped up water and cleaned the fur and skin over his shoulder, the pool of water in his palm seemingly very small in his large hand.

"We should start actually keeping watch at night," Dima said as he gingerly pulled the new shirt on, of clearly local make and sturdy. Despite that, it only made him stand out _more_ , somehow, the white fur and stripes even more alien against the practical weave and airy cut of the fabric.

"Uh... I guess, yeah." Nodding, Juri looked away, tipping his head to look up at the sky. "Never had to do something like that before, but since we're getting closer to populated areas, and _if_ we are being followed..."

It was the smart thing to do, but it was an alien concept, honestly. Even whenever he slept outside, between any other option for the night, he'd simply made camp and rolled up to sleep. He'd never really thought of the possibility of being ambushed while he slept... though he had made a concerted effort to actually always find an inn while travelling through Kurrata. It'd seemed safer, no matter how the humans had often acted, and he possibly _had_ kept himself actually safer that way.

"I'll take second watch," Dima said, and Juri could feel his eyes on him, but chose to not look back, "I hope you can keep your entertainment of the quiet sort while I sleep." It wasn't condescending, surprisingly. Pointed, yes, but not condescending. It wasn't teasing, either, but it still let the tension that'd crept up into his shoulders evaporate, and Juri smiled and turned his eyes down from the sky, rolling them in the same movement.

"I'm not going to disturb you if you're sleeping, you know." He wasn't that petty. Dima met his gaze, then looked away, though one slim eyebrow cut up on his high forehead just before he turned his head.

"Unless you were angry, I think." 

Again, it was... not what Juri expected, in terms of tone. He hadn't expected anything at all after they were done trading stories, after Dima had adjusted and said they could leave the cavern early. Dima's voice was dry, right then, and it could have been a pointed tease, though it wasn't. Dima wasn't _actually_ wrong, but he would have to be very angry indeed. Which... well, Dima had made him almost resort to that sort of noise disturbance once or twice. He'd definitely contemplated it back when he'd implied he wasn't feli enough to know how to hunt well enough. Had been too upset to think that far around dinner, though. 

"We'll eat while we walk. Here."

Scrambling to get up and pick his things up _and_ take the food Dima handed him as he walked off, Juri chalked this change of turn - probably only a brief one - as an attempt at, if not _apologizing_ , because why would Dima ever apologize for how he acted? then at least trying to make peace after his comment yesterday.

Juri decided it was, if not good enough, then at least _something_. It was certainly more than he had expected.

The interlocking series of ravines ended in a rocky stretch scattered with loose gravel and larger boulders, the landscape opening up into one long, gently undulating slope with scattered trees dotting the ground, their boughs bright against the blue sky and the scruffy, yellowed grass. The little stream they'd followed was now a respectable, if shallow and still rocky, creek bouncing its way down the slope, towards the distant band of the road and the bridge that crossed the creek. Further away, the horizon was a blue haze, and Juri knew there was no way to see the Shahnkush yet, not at this distance, but he imagined the blue haze must still be a forewarning of the huge, rocky wall those mountains made straight across Kurrata.

"We'll avoid the road."

Juri flicked one ear towards Dima, and then forward again, drawn back to reality with a grimace. "It'll take longer, though."

"At this point, though I am not about to give up on the chance of getting to a port town soon enough, I'll take a longer journey over potential capture even if we have no way to know that Ar-Tumari might be looking for us."

This, of course, presuming they could get past Kushrrata in some way, especially if Baki _did_ have people looking for them, and not only focused on the port towns this side of the Shahnkush. They had to get to the mountains and the city first though, so planning how to get through it right this moment was unnecessary. It could wait until they actually knew how things looked at the city's guarded entrance.

It did take time, far more than Juri had hoped, but at least the weather mostly stayed fair, if hot. There was only one more rainfall, and it was a rainfall, fresh and hard but not the sort of storms from earlier. It did last two miserable days however, and turned the ground muddy and soft when it wasn't rocky enough to leave them splashing through puddles. At least there were hunting paths they could make use of, or raised little walkways around fields, which helped some. Mostly they were walking through grass and avoiding thickets and bushes so as to not be slowed down. Juri realized quickly that there was one thing the wasteland had eliminated that was now back; bugs. More to the point; mosquitoes, and compared to Dima, he had a lot more bare skin to attack.

At least the grumbled complaints that slipped out every now and then didn't earn him any condescension, either by a look or a word, and so Juri couldn't say he actually minded the brief, lopsided smirk he was absolutely sure he caught at one point. He could admit Dima had _some_ advantages to being a full-blooded feli, and being covered mostly in fur helping to cut down on the annoyance of mosquitoes? Was definitely one.

Stopping for a temporary break under an old tree on top of a hill nearly two weeks later, Juri looked up at the tree and judged it to be an oak of some sort from the shape of the leaves and the green acorns growing in clusters among the dark, shiny leaves. Sitting down to eat, he paused, one ear cocked. Cocked his head a moment later as well and crossed the shadowy ground protected by the oak's boughs, looking past the vast rolling stretch of the landscape beyond the hill. Stopping on the opposite edge of the shadow, he squinted out into the sunlit glare of the blue sky.

"It really does look like a wall, even this far away." He'd been quiet enough he wouldn't have expected Dima to acknowledge the comment, but turning an ear, he heard the rustle of grass that heralded Dima coming to stand next to him, having to duck a little to avoid the oak's lowest branches.

"The mountains?" He was frowning as he peered at them, and Juri realized Dima might actually not be able to see them yet, no matter how clear the view was.

"Yeah." He wondered if it was the illusion of distance that made them look so even, or if, when they came closer, they'd look less or even more like the wall their name was. "I wonder what king it was named for."

"Human, probably. Weren't you complaining about being _tired_ , and yet now have energy to waste on being curious over things that don't matter?"

Rolling his eyes at the pointed question as Dima turned back to where they'd dropped the bags, Juri threw one last look at the distant view and hoped, if they had no way to get through Kushrrata, that the mountains weren't as intimidating as they looked.

Unfortunately, it seemed they rather were. 

The closer they got to the Shahnkush, the more apt the name became; even hours from just the foothills the sides of the mountains were obviously near-vertical and appeared smoother than they should, for being natural _mountains_. The only proof that that's what they actually were was whenever the clouds around the tops drifted apart enough to reveal jagged peaks and not, as Juri half expected, the flat top of an actual wall.

They'd had to pull further away from the road as the number travellers on it grew, even as the road itself became more tempting, broad and raised up from the surrounding uneven ground. The landscape turned hilly, with jagged slashes cutting through the hillsides and revealing loose rock and boulders within, like dragons had, some time in the past, used the hills for a scratching board.

"Are you reasonably skilled at stealth?" Dima was frowning in the direction of the distant wink of sunlight on blue-painted wood and the blue mosaic that covered the stones of the gates that cut off the only easily traversable pass through the Shahnkush and which was also the entrance into Kushrrata. 

Juri opened his mouth, ears turned flat, and then snapped it closed as he caught up to the fact that the question had been neutral, not a condescending sneer disguised as a question. Tugging on his hair, he shrugged, feeling weirdly wrong-footed but also relieved to be.

"Well, I haven't had the chance to test my mettle by sneaking into a heavily guarded palace to steal a noble's most valuable piece of jewellery," Juri said brightly, and then hurriedly continued before the darkening light in Dima's eyes could turn into something cutting, "but keeping out of sight and attention when people aren't paying attention to me shouldn't be too hard. Why?"

"Get up to the gates and get an idea of how the entry process works, and if they _are_ looking for us. Both of those things will influence how we proceed." Dima raised one eyebrow, ears and tail cocked at an angle, and Juri huffed, not missing the silent 'can you do that, _without_ clever commentary?' practically floating above Dima's head, and well-expressed by the rest.

"Give me an hour," he said as he dropped the bag when they stopped among a collection of debris collected between two hills. Couldn't help but throw a glance to his bag before he decisively turned around and walked off. No, he'd never sneaked into a heavily guarded palace and stolen a noble's most precious piece of jewellery before. He'd just picked it up, hidden it in a scarf, and walked off after being _invited in_. Dima had no reason to look in his bag, had no reason to be interested in what might be in there. He didn't need to worry about him going through it while he wasn't there.

The awareness of what was in his bag and that Dima still might look, for no other reason than curiosity, drove him as he first half-jogged over the rocky ground, and then slowed to a walk. Went slower still, taking care where he put his feet and how straight he walked, the closer he got to the loud rumble that was the living cork stopping up the gates to Kushrrata. No, Dima had no reason to look, but _if he did_ , he might find the Fortune, and Juri... was still not convinced Dima was a good option, even if he was from the northern tribes. Possibly he was just coloured by his impression of Dima, but what was wrong with that?

Shaking his head, Juri paused to quickly braid his hair and tossed it over his shoulder before he continued, using rocks and the scraggly bushes below the raised road to shield himself. With the bare rock being in in tones of sand and red orche, it did help him to blend in somewhat. Honestly, this wasn't particularly hard. He just wished he knew how things looked from up on the road; if anyone actually _looked down_ , it didn't matter how stealthy he was if he didn't have a boulder high enough between him and the road and they'd see him anyway. Such thoughts would only make him needlessly paranoid and twitchy however, so Juri focused on _forward motion_ , and slunk back and forth a few times until he found a reasonably good spot in the upper edges of one of the rocky tears left behind, by an actual dragon or wind and rain, at the right angle to actually see something of the road and gates.

The gates themselves were recessed behind jutting towers standing sentinel, half cradling part of the road and shielding the actual entrance, but the guards surveying the people wanting entrance into Kushrrata weren't standing that far back. At first, he neither saw nor heard anything he might not have expected of guards at the entrance to a walled city with reason to keep guards there, and more actively than just watching people pass by. It did take longer to pick out actual conversation, and it was hard to keep track of it with so many of them going on at once, but the bored repeat of a particular set of questions made it simpler to actually register them being said.

Reason for coming, where they came from, how many were in their travelling party. Simple and straightforward, and the guards sometimes even answered questions about where this or that particular traveller could go for rest and food.

What was more troublesome was realizing that any group with even a single feli in it was being stopped and eyed closer. Worse, though it wasn't asked of everyone, but still often enough; if they'd seen any _weird_ feli, that clearly weren't local. It wasn't detailed, but it was certainly detailed enough that it'd cause people to think and, obviously, mostly shook their heads and answered in the negative. But it was unpleasant proof Baki had clearly not given up, even after more than a month since they'd escaped.

Listening to yet another set of now-familiar questions partially lost in the buzz of other conversations, Juri wondered if it was because of the Fortune, or because he'd freed Dima. Either and both was possible, but as he slipped from his hiding spot and skidded down towards the ground and slunk away, he had the creeping suspicion it was because of what was hidden in his bags and not because he'd freed Dima. The Fortune would be more important, even if Dima _was_ a rather spectacular member of the feli species and even more exotic this far south, like the pointed questions from the gate guards had amply exemplified.

Juri came back to where Dima was hiding with the bags with a grim coldness around his chest and his tail restless behind him. Grimacing as he came around the rocks and met Dima's arched expression, Juri slumped, ears and shoulders both.

"They _are_ looking for us. _Still_. They're questioning everyone at the gates, not just the usual questions of what they're there for, but asking if they've seen any 'unusual feli slaves'. There's obviously barely any mixed feli among the travellers, but anyone who looks like they could be is being stopped, as well as any group with a feli at all."

Only rarely did human-feli couplings result in offspring, even more seldom if the human partner was the woman, and no offspring at all with any other species. That was probably, completely aside from the question of _attractiveness_ , what made feli welcome as... distractions... of a more carnal nature for any of the others. There was little risk in leaving any unwanted result. It did happen though, however rarely, which only made any such mixed children stand out all the more, and also, of course, made it harder if you were one such to hide.

"I'm not surprised." Dima ran a light hand through his hair, unintentionally tugging out a couple more flyaway strands to frame his face. His tail swung slowly from side to side, and like this, his usually-intense gaze had gone soft with distraction, like heat waves blurring the hard blue summer sky. He tipped his head further back, turning slightly to look up at the mountains rising behind them. "Looking at these mountains, it'd take days or even weeks to find any traversable pass, and it'd probably require supplies we don't have."

"No wonder all anyone says is 'go through Kushrrata'," Juri added with a mumble, grimacing up at the impressive and intimidating rise of the mountains behind them. This close, they were _still_ near-vertical, lacking that sort of slow, uneven rise he would've expected.

"We'll need disguises," Dima said with a flick of his tail as he stood up, frowning in the direction of the dust hovering above the line waiting to get into Kushrrata, though the gates themselves weren't visible from this angle, and his voice was grim, at least to start with, when he continued, "dye, I suppose. And..."

Dima trailed off, turning to look down at Juri with a considering frown. Slowly came forward and practically stalked a circle around him. Juri stood still, but he didn't much like the look on Dima's face, though it wasn't _threatening_ as such, or condescending. There was just... something weighted in it that made him want to straighten up and thrust his chin out, or cover himself. He wasn't sure. So while he didn't turn to keep Dima in sight, he kept one ear turned towards him until he was in front of him again.

"If you cross dress as a human woman, the veiling and robes should keep what you are hidden enough assumptions ought to do the rest."

"Wh..." Juri stared up into bright blue eyes, opened his mouth. Closed it, swallowed a groan, and scrubbed his face harshly. "You're getting back at me for the dye comment and that you now have to actually go through with it, aren't you?"

Juri dropped his hands and glared up at Dima in time to catch the first tiny quirk of a smile, sharp and not particularly _sweet_ , but not mocking, that he'd had directed at him. The sparkle in Dima's eyes nearly made the reason for it worth it, and Juri had to squash that feeling.

"Perhaps." The amusement was brief, and when Dima looked back towards the road snaking away from Kushrrata and the Shahnkush that they'd been walking alongside since coming back to more settled parts, it was gone already. "But dyeing is the only way for me to blend in, and two feli in these parts would be too obvious. There's no way to dress you in the local clothes for men and have a hope you would pass for human."

Relentless, and logical. Also far more patient than he, again, would've expected. Whether that was because Dima knew it was their best option and could thus more easily exercise patience, or if he was just used to explaining his strategy and the reasons for it, he didn't know. Juri wished he could protest, but it was the most elegant solution that seemed like it had a shadow of actually succeeding, and finally he slumped, nodding.

"We passed a village two hours back. They ought to have clothes we can buy, and then we can figure out what to do for dye," Dima added shortly while he picked up the bag he usually carried. Juri, meanwhile, threw one last, nearly beseeching look up at the forbidding rise of the Shahnkush, just in case he could glimpse a sudden path opening up. Seeing nothing, Juri sighed, picked up the other of his two bags, and followed Dima back the way they'd come.

It took long enough to gather all they thought they might need, both in the village and in the surrounding landscape after a few, clumsy questions, that they slept out in the open that night as well, less than an hour from Kushrrata's walls and the mountains a towering wall of their own in the distance. It took the better part of the next morning to get ready, but it was better the dye was as fresh as possible and applied as close to them leaving than risk any of it wearing off too soon. They had no idea how long it'd keep Dima's pale hair, fur and dark stripes hidden.

"It looks... pretty good?" Juri stepped back from Dima, his hands yellow despite having used clothes and a comb, and smothering a smile in the face of the glare he got while Dima brushed at his arms with pinched displeasure. They hadn't dyed _all_ of him, just the parts that would be visible, but that was clearly enough to bruise Dima's pride. He wasn't the buff colours the local feli mostly showed, but rather a soft yellow that hinted at red in the sunlight, like a much paler and diluted version of Juri's vibrant fox-like red. His hair was boldly blond from the dye and while the black stripes hadn't been covered enough by the dye to hide them, they were dark orange now, not black, and blended well enough with the rest they could almost be taken for the sort of tabby stripes a lot of regular feli had. There was absolutely nothing to do about the soft curve of his ears, but with Kurrata neighbour to the Ar-Hurrn-Zami on the other side of the Shahnkush, they could pass Dima off as having parentage from captured desert feli.

It'd have to do.

"Wash your hands and get dressed," Dima growled as he turned away, fiddling with his short-sleeved robe and the flowing sleeves of the tunic. Juri had picked up some more local clothes both for himself and Dima to help them blend in better. It was all second hand, Dima's new clothes weren't as rough as the shirt Dima had gotten before they left Dilshad's settlement, and he wore it like it was fit for a king despite s suppressed discomfort. 

Juri sighed and admitted he had to stop procrastinating if they were to reach Kushrrata at a time that wasn't late enough it'd draw more scrutiny. Tucking a couple now-black curls behind his ear, Juri washed his hands clean and set about getting into his own clothes. The flowing, not quite ballooning legs of the pants weren't really that bad, though it felt stifling to have his legs covered all the way down to his ankles. The long, thin tunic that went on above that was at least soft enough, as worn as it was, that it didn't feel too unpleasant on his back or lower arms. The robe that came next was less comfortable, but despite what he'd feared, the layers breathed well enough he would probably not be boiling any time soon. If the tight fit of the veil over his skull kept his ears still, this might actually work. There was only one issue... the sleeves weren't long enough.

"This isn't going to work," Juri said, looking down at his hands and the fur that was on the back of them. There was no way to hide _that_ , and the female human population of Kurrata didn't wear gloves.

"You're going to have to shave them up to the wrists." Dima's dismissive blandness cut deeper than any annoyed impatience or sneer could have, and the worst thing was that for once, Juri was pretty sure he didn't mean anything by the tone used. It did nothing to stop the hot bubble inside to burst up out of his mouth.

" _What_!" He should've known, though. What else was there to do about his hands than that? It didn't stop him from taking a reflexive step back, hands first clutched to his chest, then dropping them and hiding them behind his back, as if that would save him. Dima was staring at him, a flat expression that slowly turned into a frown and then further softened at the corners of his mouth. It almost looked like regret.

"Do you have a better idea?"

Stomach churning as he stared up at Dima, Juri knew he hadn't. It'd take them weeks on weeks to follow the Shahnkush either far north or south enough to get to either coast, and the northern coast was supposed to be extremely hard to travel. The southern one would end with them on the wrong side of the Ar-Tamar mountains and on the southern end of Ar-Hurrn-Zami. The only other option would be to try to cross the Shahnkush. Something which even natives avoided doing and would probably take at least as long as any of the other options, as Dima had pointed out.

"... No." He didn't. He really didn't. Slowly pulling his hands forward again and turning them over, Juri understood now why Dima had said to buy a razor. He had honestly known back then too, but he'd avoided thinking that far.

"I understand the discomfort, but it _will_ grow back, Juri."

Sucking in a startled breath, Juri glanced up through his lashes and past dyed curls, into an expression that was surprisingly soft, before Dima instantly looked away, ears twitching back and his lips thinning. Juri would say he looked confused, which he himself was feeling too, underneath the churning unease at the thought of shaving any fur at all. That was the first time Dima had actually used his name.

That, as well as the understanding, was a small consolation, and in the end didn't change anything.

His hands looked strange without the fur. They looked _human_ , even if his claws were, at least, still there. There wasn't much reason to cut or file those, luckily; there was a near-constant trend among human women on both continents, apparently, to try and emulate felin claws. As long as he didn't unsheathe them, he should be fine.

Aside from his bare hands, feeling too-sensitive to the air, now, the worst was definitely the veil pressing down on his ears, and the wraps on his feet. Kurratan human women of some means wore soft cloth slippers, which, as long as he didn't walk too energetically and showed off his feet were angled wrong, wrapping his feet up would emulate the slippers close enough no one would pay much attention. Dima's soft, considering noise pulled Juri's attention away from the discomfort of his ears and feet and the bareness of his hands, and he looked up with a frown.

"You look---"

" _Don't_ say it," Juri snapped, an uneasy weight in his chest. He didn't want to hear he looked better as a human than a feli.

"Surprisingly convincing as a woman," Dima finished, and while that wasn't necessarily _better_ , it was definitely not what he'd expected to hear, and he'd rather _that_ than the other option. In one way, it was even a compliment, and Juri found himself smiling, if reluctantly.

"... Okay, I'm not sure that's much better, but lots of people _have_ said I look like my mother," he agreed quietly, then turned to look towards the road in the distance, "I suppose we should get going."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get through the city with the help of crossdressing, dye, and dancing, while Dima takes one pretty large step forward.

They should indeed get going, but they couldn't get going _just yet_. Taking both bags this time, Dima knelt down and held an arm out, tail flicking irritably before he stilled it, channeling the energy into a long, slow sweep instead.

"Over here, then."

Juri turned towards him, and he supposed it was just a matter of getting used to it, but the half-breed looked strangely... wrong, like this. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but perhaps it was merely the precise folds of cloth from the veil around his face, hiding even the barest hint of the fur growing along the edge of his cheeks, and the way the veil emphasized his eyes. They looked huge, with the dark cloth covering the braided and dyed curls, and their colour were starting against the soft brown skin and freckles. Somehow, without the huge cloud of curls around his face and shoulders, Juri looked even smaller than he actually was. Admittedly, that still didn't mean much; he was very short.

"What?"

Sighing, Dima scowled at him. He didn't like that suddenly it was harder to read the half-breed's expressions. While he could tell there'd been a twitch or two where his ears were hidden underneath the veil, that gave him no specific hints, and the tail, likewise but less restrictively so, was hidden in one of the legs of the wide pants, was also unable to be used to read Juri. It seemed, again, wrong.

"I know you aren't stupid, and you must have seen how people were travelling while they were waiting for admittance into the city."

"Yes, but..." Juri frowned, looking off towards where the road was, then back to him, "it won't be _that_ weird, if I walk, will it?"

He could understand the unwillingness, but he wasn't _actually_ about to hurt him... physically. All right, Dima could admit that he'd probably hurt Juri emotionally quite a few times during this trip, but not _physically_ and the half-breed knew that, he should hope. He grunted, his ears briefly turning downwards, and gestured to him sharply.

"We're going to stand out, Juri." Again, there was a twitch, Juri's brilliantly-coloured eyes widening briefly, and Dima wasn't sure why he didn't much like the surprise, even if this _was_ only the second time he'd used his name. He hadn't even planned to use it the first time, but it was a little like that had uncorked something. He had other things to concern himself with but to think about that, however, and shook his head. "Especially as I am very clearly capable of carrying you."

"What, I'm not _that_ light, I promise you!" Laughter, surprisingly soft and unguarded, and maybe he would've smiled if he let himself; instead Dima rolled his eyes.

"And I promise you, I will be able to carry you, and people are going to wonder, if only silently, why I am not if I don't, and we're going to stand out. Now _come here_." Putting commanding force into the order came easy, was familiar in a way that had nothing to do with dealing with this half-breed for this infuriating trip, and Dima looked away from the brief darkening of Juri's eyes, the way his pupils widened before his expression smoothed out again and he did come over, if somewhat hesitantly. 

Even more hesitantly sat himself on his arm and shoulder, a small hand - bare of any fur and that, too didn't look right, as necessary as it currently was - landing on his other shoulder, claws catching the fabric of the robe. With a grunt, Dima stood up, folding his hand over a covered thigh and, all right. Juri had been more correct than he'd thought he would be. He _was_ heavier than he looked, clearly more muscle than expected hiding under his smooth skin, right now hidden by layers of fabric. Shifting both bags to his other hip helped even things out, but this was more than doable. He had certainly not been wrong about his ability to carry the half-breed, and he would've been severely ashamed if he couldn't have. 

"What do you even have in your bag, anyway? It can't be just the knife."

It'd clattered more than he would've expected, even if the bedroll was in the bag he usually carried. Dima glanced up to watch Juri freeze, wide eyes flicking down to meet his, then away. The gentle curve of his lips was stiff with a twist that didn't seem to know what it wanted to be.

"Uh... cookies."

He paused momentarily, then quickly set off walking again, but frowned as he glanced up at Juri once more, still unable to read the expression without the help of the ears. It was proving thoroughly annoying, far more so than the presence of them at all were. Was he embarrassed, perhaps?

"I have a tin of cookies in there I've been saving," Juri continued, and his shrug was easy, though there was something about his face, still, that Dima couldn't pinpoint. Probably embarrassed, he concluded, for who would admit to that? Felin children were more fond of sugar than they were as adults, though it wasn't like they _couldn't_ eat sweets even as adults and also certainly did. Just not often, so bothering to take up precious space while you were travelling with _cookies_? 

Embarrassed, definitely.

Dima shook his head and, with a short, soft hum, focused on actually getting them over to the road. People barely looked at them as they joined the trickle of bodies, and he hadn't been wrong about his decision to carry Juri. While most of those who were walking and had a slave might only use them as a handy packhorse without the 'horse' part, those who were capable of carrying a person (mostly children, given, but not only), _were_. No one gave them a look, aside from those who were staring at him and calling a couple compliments to Juri for his 'good choice'. He could feel Juri's hidden tail, resting against his shoulder, twitch every time that happened.

The road choked them with dust, and it wasn't yet late enough for the air or wind to cool the sunlight beating down on top of them, but it was certainly easier to walk this straight, well-tended road than the uneven wilds to either side. Juri was a firm weight on his arm, impossible to forget, but he sat still, feet hooked around his ankles. Natural felin grace would answer for most of how unobtrusive he was, surely, though there seemed to be more to it, much like the suggestion of muscles were far more than Dima would've assumed to come from merely walking a lot.

Why was he even dedicating thought to this?

Focusing his attention back on the road stretching out in front of him and the flashing blue of the gates of Kushrrata beyond, which was an unpleasant reminder of what they still had to do, Dima stared coolly over the heads of the people around them. He was uncomfortable and surely looked ridiculous, but there was nothing to do about it. As long as it got them through Kushrrata he could deal. Slowly the pace slowed as they joined what was becoming a proper queue shuffling forward towards the entrance, which meant they would soon have to test their disguises. Until then, though, all that offered entertainment was staring at the admittedly impressive blue mosaic of bricks that covered the gates, interspersed with burnished rows of what turned out to be lions in various state of being pierced by swords or spears when he was close enough to pick out the detail. Dima pressed his lips flatter, already even less fond than he already was of Kushrrata. Very subtle, that motif.

Keeping his face studiously blank while they crept along the road, Dima cursed silently with merely one or two groups in front of them - why had he neglected to establish an actual route from where they must have come from, and what they (or rather, Juri) was doing here? Those questions would be standard, the answers to them vital, and here he'd been far more focused on the indignity of dyeing his fur and hair, and, too, Juri's sudden discomfort of shaving even as little fur as was on the back of his hands.

That had been unexpected, even if Juri had grown up among feli; he was still half-human so he was barely covered by fur as it was... And maybe that should've been an obvious hint to that he wouldn't take well to remove any more of it. No matter. The group in front of them passed the guards, and then there was only a single merchant in front of them, and removing them from the queue would draw too much attention. Dima didn't like the prospect of having to rely on the half-breed to come up with their cover story, not because he might not be capable of it, but rather having to leave the reins to someone he didn't know how they would deal with it. He could delegate tasks, but that meant he still had _control_ , and now he would not. 

No, he didn't like it, but there was no choice as the merchant was let through and the two guards turned to them, both sets of eyes narrowing as they fell to him.

"Where did you get this one?"

Ah. 'This one'. Truly how one wished to be talked about. Dima kept from sneering, his ears and tail still.

"Oh, he was a gift, for a private performance. How so?" At the least the half-breed was smart enough not to try and force his voice up into some sort of falsetto; all he'd done was talk far softer than he usually did, turn his voice breathier. Dima would never admit to the twitch of one ear as it almost swiveled towards Juri where he sat perched on his shoulder, one leg now crossed over the other under the robe. His tail, compared to the soft arch of his back as he leaned forward slightly, was stiff against Dima's shoulder.

The guards grunted and glanced at each other, squinting at Dima.

"Some performance, with a gift like that." After a beat of silence, however, the guard that had been talking looked back up at Juri, most of the flat tightness around his mouth gone. "Where did you come from, then, and what's your purpose here?"

"Unshad," Juri said with unwavering ease, as if that was nothing but the truth, but Dima could feel the twitch of his tail, see the slight squint around eyes that seemed so much larger at the moment. They were clearly lucky these guards did not actually know the half-breed. Dima was starting to suspect he wasn't that good at lying, though clearly better with some time to prepare than he might otherwise be. "And providing entertainment, of course. Is there any particular quarters in the Flower Quarter that might be better to choose from?"

He kept his eyebrows where they ought to be, but glanced up sideways at Juri with a tiny squint, then back to the guards. He would really assume... But the guards seemed to have relaxed a little further at the question, and rattled off a couple names, so whatever assumption Juri had had behind that question, it'd clearly been the right one.

"Thank you," Juri said, and smiled - leaned forward a little further, lashes lowered, and head cocked, but yet there was something... Dima flicked his glance from Juri to the guard, watching the man smile pleasantly and wave them on, and understood what he was seeing. Was seeing _for the first time_ , even. There was something missing around Juri's eyes, and he wasn't actually looking quite straight at the man, even taking the, hm, coquettishly lowered lashes into account. To anyone who hadn't spent time with him, the fake smile probably read as real, but Dima could spot the difference and, as Juri straightened up and he carried him through the towering gates, he realized that all that friendliness, the _smiles_ , all of it up until now, had been completely honest.

The realization came with a burst of annoyance and exasperated, reluctant acceptance that he had been wrong. Wrong from the beginning and that Dilshad had been correct.

It was something he should honestly have seen long before now, but he hadn't been particularly _interested_ in seeing it. Not that it really mattered in the long run that Juri was exactly what he seemed to be, but that made his decisions to come to Kurrata for a piece of history all the more incomprehensible. The world often wasn't very kind to people like this half-breed, and it had (mostly) nothing to do with that he was feli, or mixed. The world often just wasn't kind to _sincerely nice people_. He should know.

" _What_?" Juri hissed softly from above him as they walked the wide, stone-paved, steps up towards the second blue-tiled gate, and Dima realized he'd tightened his grip on Juri's thigh where he was gripping it while he'd been thinking. Easing it up, Dima used his lapse to segue into something else; he wasn't about to reveal anything about this embarrassing moment of realizing he'd let his opinions of Juri being a half-breed blind him to his personality being honest.

" _Providing entertainment_? Flower Quarter?" Dima kept his face forward, only glancing up at Juri and with an ear turned towards him, which at least kept the effect of the way the veil framed his face to a less direct impact. Not that it should have much of one, and Dima didn't know why it was having any at all, but maybe it was more because there was still something vaguely unsettling by the effect it was having on Juri's silhouette.

" _Dancing_ , Dima. Even if interested parties are looking for us, maybe even in the Flower Quarter because he remember I can play, this is something different entirely, so it won't connect _this_ with what he knows. And all towns of some size in the region, not just Kurrata, has a Flower Quarter," Juri shrugged, looking up and tilting his head back to watch the underside of the gate as they passed through it and into Kushrrata proper, "it provides lodgings for entertainers for free, as long as you also go to the establishments put up for that purpose and spend the night with your chosen profession. So, after we drop the bags off, I... we, are going to have to go out and find a place so I can do exactly that, otherwise someone's going to be able to figure out something's off."

The soft curve of Juri's chin twitched and tightened the longer he talked, and the glance down to Dima was uncertain, as if he was expecting backlash. In some ways, Dima did want to lash out. It seemed far better to disappear into the bowels of the city and choose a place to sleep for the night that would care about nothing but the coins handed over. On the other hand, and weighing far more heavily; this way, if Juri was serious about his ability to convincingly dance, they would be invisible, and Juri actually clearly having a _reason_ , both to travel and to have a slightly unusually fine slave.

Some people gave away gifts like they were water, after all, sometimes whether the reason for the gift was earned or not.

"All right." He snorted softly, felt his tail twitch, and allowed a quick flick, easing some of his tension. "You better know what you're doing."

"I'm not going fall over my feet, Dima," Juri said, a soft laugh spilling out, warm in the shadows of the buildings they passed, cool in the sunlight, though the pause right after made Dima glance up again, "I mean, I hope. I haven't actually ever had to do this without, uh, my full balance."

Without his tail, he meant. Dima cursed silently.

Being too late to change anything at all about what they were doing, the only way was forward. Kushrrata was built on rising terraces towards the highest point of what would've been the top of the deep pass cutting through the Shahnkush, with an equal number of terraces on the other side of the governor's palace at the top, which was straddling the top terrace partially suspended in the air like a bridge. It was impressive, and, despite clear attempts at remodelling and building it out, it was also obviously older than anything surrounding it. Perhaps some part of the palace was even old enough to have watched as the combined human and elven hordes breached the Shahnkush in the first step to bring the felin kingdom that had once been here to its knees, and then to erase it completely.

History. The half-breed was getting him distracted by things that didn't matter today, Dima thought with a scowl, but still paused long enough while they worked their way to the Flower Quarter for Juri to get a good look at the palace. From this angle it looked like it was floating above the rest of the city, something Juri echoed with a soft, thoughtful comment.

The Flower Quarter was a mix of narrow streets interrupted by open gardens, overflowing with flowers even this deep into summer. People wandered among the paths leading through the gardens or tried to call running children to heel. Here, more than anywhere else, the lack of performers out on the street was glaring since he now knew this Quarter was presumably full of them, but Dima realized the rest of the city had been surprisingly empty of them as well. The system must be working, but it made the city seem rather... flat, in some ways. Choosing the first building that offered lodgings emphasized that yes, it certainly worked, but that it was so apparently simple was rather baffling.

The room wasn't even particularly small, but there was, in fact, only one bed.

"I guess I'll---"

"We can figure it out later," Dima said with a shake of his head, dropping the bags and kicking them under the bed as he looked around; the bed was surprisingly wide, and the room was clean. A little scuffed at the edges, maybe, but not rundown enough to be remotely unpleasant. "How will they even assure themselves you have done your duty to have a right to be here?"

Juri was still eyeing him uncertainly, but he shrugged, a small, lopsided smile creeping up on his face. "Oh, that's easy. You get a token after your shift, and hand it to the person manning the desk when you come back to wherever you're sleeping. Come on, I'll need to find a place where they'll be willing to lend clothes, too."

Dima paused and turned around, staring at Juri. He certainly had clothes already, and he couldn't imagine any outfit used by the local female performers was so different from the standard clothes human women wore that it'd be necessary to wheedle someone for a change. It seemed more work than it was worth, especially when Juri would need to hide more than just the body for modesty's sake.

"What? You think _this_ would do for an actual performance?" Snorting as he plucked at the robe he wore, Juri shook his head, then grimaced, one hand inching up towards the veil before he snatched it away. "The few times I did this before I got south enough the towns weren't large enough for Flower Quarter, my clothes were... uh, 'exotic' enough I could get away with it, but if I'm supposed to dance as a _human woman_ I can't exactly use my own clothes."

In the end, Juri found what he needed, after a bit of wandering around. Walndering around on _Dima's_ part that was, because he still carried Juri, which, honestly, almost made things easier anyway in the narrow streets and with the crowds slowly thickening as the afternoon wore on. They ate early, for once neither having to hunt for their food or take anything from the practically exhausted supplies Juri had stolen from Ar-Tumari. They'd need to buy more before they left Kushrrata, so not having to pay for either lodging or food was an unexpected boon.

When they came back to Juri's chosen establishment that evening, Dima got a narrow, sidelong stare from the woman who showed them in, and then pointed to an alcove set off in the back from the stage with a sniff. "You may stay there, if you wish, or wait outside."

Dima was half tempted to go back outside immediately, because he certainly didn't need to endure either that first type of look _or_ the second one she shot from under her lashes, when she thought he couldn't see. In the end, he planted himself in the alcove, arms crossed over his chest and ignoring the hard weight of the cuffs and collar pressing against him. Standing outside may be simpler, especially as he was trying - despite repeatedly trying to avoid it - to figure out why, exactly, it bothered him so much that Juri seemed more odd _now_ that his ears and tail were hidden.

He _always_ looked odd, so why was now different?

The answer came, if not immediately when Juri stepped out and some light trilling strings carried by a softer, deeper drum rose up, weaving together into melody, then slowly so.

Because for as fluid as every little motion from Juri was, a perfect response so in tune with the music it seemed more like he was creating and leading it rather than following, _something was missing_. Not in a way that affected the dancing; in fact, Juri moved like poetry in motion, despite that he couldn't use his tail. He flowed across the stage, throwing out an arm or leg with every off-hand deeper strike to the drum, or when the strings rose, sliding deep towards the floor and rising up in the same movement, somehow having rebalanced himself during a single, sinuous move that couldn't be as easy as it looked. Bent in half, then further, so low to the floor he should surely have tipped over, then twirled around until he was upright again.

It was just clear, if one knew what, exactly, one was looking at, that Juri would've been truly spectacular if he actually had been able to use his tail. Would've been more stunning if his ears had been on display, giving more emotion to the performance. The disguise was good, but Dima knew what he was looking at, what was lacking was glaring and so all he came back to was that Juri didn't look like himself. 

It seemed an insult to hide the two parts that, honestly, defined him far more than the patchy excuse for fur. Because, yes, Juri wasn't just half of a human. He was also half feli, and while he'd always be that, and nothing more, this pretence, Dima realized as he watched Juri flow like water made solid over the stage, was more of an insult to his felin heritage than the fact that he was part feli at all.

The realization was infuriating. 

Juri was a _half-breed_ and among those feli who tried to live _with_ humans instead of carving out space for themselves elsewhere, what claim did he have to being properly feli? Trying to grasp at something to refute all this left Dima with nothing but the stark display in front of him; how every turn of a shaved hand looked wrong as the light glinted off buffed claws pretending to be nails _pretending to be claws_ ; how the easy balance of remaining on his toes as he pivoted, legs parting as he sunk to the floor, twisted around, rose up like the twist of a breeze, was something many humans tried to replicate. Must be something they tried to replicate, for not a single man or woman in here had looked askance at a presumably human performer aping felin grace wherever it suited them while treating felin like they were beneath humans. It was also not something they could ape perfectly. Not for this long, not this _easily_.

Brassy bells of some sort joined the strings and drums, the music picked up pace with Juri, like he was driving it, every twirling turn and toss of partially veiled curls pulling it higher, faster.

They were all blind, and he...

Had been shamefully stupid. It was all well and good to be proud of what he was, what his people had and how difficult that was to hold on to, but what did that matter if you then turned around and spat on others of your own kind? The northern tribes worked hard for their life though, and what did the felin Juri belong to do? Play nice, take what they could get?

Grunting, he rubbed his face and pressed himself into the alcove, tail repeatedly twitching in aborted attempts to lash. These weren't thoughts he wanted to have. But _not having them_ was impossible as he watched Juri, and moving was even less possible.

What he wanted was to have the skill displayed properly honoured, which would mean ripping off those ridiculously human clothes and replace them with something that didn't hide anything that was hidden at this moment, however necessary it was that they _stay hidden_.

Leave him barefoot despite how his feet looked instead of with his feet wrapped up and with the bottom of the garishly decorated pants gathered around his ankles. Take off the wide-collared robe that, very cleverly, Dima could admit, framed Juri's chest and shoulders in a way that, along with what must have been some sort of waist cincher thanks to the appearance of greater flare of hips he certainly didn't have, also suggested actual breasts, however small, may be present. The robe itself was only closed down to the waist, instead of fully concealing like the one they'd bought in the village, though this one, compared to the other one, was gathered around Juri's wrists as well, hiding the fur Dima knew well was right behind those heavily embroidered cuffs. _Definitely_ take off the admittedly clever cap that covered the top of Juri's head, hiding his ears. There was a veil attached to it, trailing down over his loose hair. It hid his curls almost completely every time it fell to rest, but Juri was moving like a leaf in a storm, so the veil was barely doing its work and allowing a view of all those shining curls that, among polite Kurratan society, was entirely shameful on an adult woman.

Of course, the rules weren't exactly the same for performers.

Ridiculous, either way. That hair, like those ears - and Juri must be deeply uncomfortable like that, even if there was nothing in his face to give it away - deserved to be on display.

It was at that moment, as he watched Juri sink down like a marionette with its stings having been cut as the music abruptly stopped, that Dima realized he was painfully hard. 

It took a breathless moment of being aware of this fact before he turned on his feet and stormed out, waiting outside in the cool evening air instead. The shadows were blue over the buildings and streets, the scent of flowers nearly choking him. It was distraction enough, so by the time Juri came out swinging the token they'd need and a pleased smile on his face, his body was no longer shamefully betraying him. Just because Juri was as much feli as he was human and understanding they were both what made Juri what he was didn't mean he ought to think him attractive. Just because he might have been unfair in his judgement of how Juri being a half-breed meant anything at all, didn't mean he _was attracted to him_.

Still, Dima reached out in pure reflex to guide Juri by the small of his back before he snatched his hand back and Juri swayed to a stop.

"What..?" Wide, gold-and-green eyes stared up at him, and the very sensible human clothes looked, again, like an insult. Scowling, he looked away and knelt down.

"You're not supposed to walk," he snapped in reminder and Juri looked away, cleared his throat, and then came over. The feeling of the tail resting against his shoulder was as much condemnation as it was a reminder that part was still there, and he could feel a slight tremble in Juri's thighs. Not surprising considering the display he'd just put on.

There was half of a pointed comment on the tip of his tongue that if Juri used his dancing more than his flute, he would surely win more hearts - Dima swallowed it down and for the first time felt vaguely ashamed as he stood up. There was no reason lashing out at Juri, especially for _either_ thing he clearly enjoyed doing, and it wasn't as if he wasn't actually good at playing his flute. He was, certainly. He must simply just have been mostly informally taught, though possessing natural skill that bridged most issues and infused his music with a particular warmth and depth. So with more formal training, his music would stand up to the display of skill he'd just shown on the stage.

No matter. It wasn't like Dima would have anything to do with that. Whatever Juri decided to do with how he employed his skills was his own decision. Above him, Juri sighed, just faintly.

"It's a pity we can't use the public baths we do have access to," he muttered, and Dima didn't miss the longing glance he shot towards a building they passed, steam rising from the back of it and light warm in the windows at the front. The dye wouldn't thank them and they wouldn't thank themselves for washing said dye off.

"It wouldn't be misplaced," Dima said, pausing for a moment before continuing, to make sure he had control of his tone of voice, knew what he was saying, "you would stand to use it, after tonight. Since you can't, you may have the bed. I'll use the bedroll."

Juri snapped his head around to stare down at him, something between a flash of defensiveness easing over into slightly bewildered ease when he picked out that Dima hadn't sneered. Had instead, perhaps, _maybe_ , teased him. Finally, Juri snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Well, thanks for your overflowing generosity and kindness, while having to deal with my stink!" The cautious amusement dissolved into laughter, and Dima could no longer say he didn't want to hear it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go through Kushrrata and past it, and then Dima chooses to take their route farther west than Juri would rather wish to go. It's a risk, but one that seems acceptable. At least at first.

It was strange. Something had changed. Not that Dima hadn't slowly gotten better since they first met, but... the barbs had never stopped, really. They'd come with longer and longer stretches between them, which just made them hurt all the more because he forgot to keep his guard up, but even without those, there'd always been a tension to Dima whenever he looked at him, or even when he wasn't, like Juri's mere presence was aggravating and caused tension.

Now, though...

Juri had no idea what had changed, or why, but after waking up in a bed that'd probably felt softer than it actually was since he'd been sleeping on the ground for so long, Dima had still been asleep. He hadn't even woken up while Juri had gotten dressed to take care of some business, and before, he'd always woken up as soon as Juri moved just a shade too much, even when they weren't sleeping literally right next to each other. That, on its own, wasn't a huge change, _really_ , but it was noticeable. It was even more noticeable when they crossed through Kushrrata in the early morning, the shadows cast by buildings and the towering mountains around them still cool and blue and the scent of flowers still faint and making what little purchases they could; the tension still wasn't there. Dima didn't actually _look at him_ much, still, but there was a softness around the corners of his mouth that hadn't been there before, and if Juri so much as shifted on his arm, since he was still carrying him, one rounded ear flicked towards him.

"What?" He probably wouldn't get an actual answer to the question he was actually asking, but the lack of tension was pulling on something in _him_ and winding it tighter, so he just had to say something, at least.

"We should stay on the road for as long as we can, it'll take less time," Dima said, which definitely wasn't an answer to what he'd really wanted to ask, and it wasn't an answer he wanted to hear. The veil was already giving him a headache, keeping his ears pressed down as it was, and spending at least another couple days like this... he definitely wasn't looking forward to it. Dima wasn't wrong, though.

"I guess... but does it really matter, at this point?" There was no way they'd get anywhere close to a friendly town within just a month, especially if they had to keep an eye out for anyone figuring out who they were. He'd hoped, but... there was no way. Dima, for once, didn't stiffen under him, but rather looked more frustrated than coldly grim. It was, also for once, basically what Juri was feeling about the whole thing too. He'd really rather have more of a choice of where they'd be at that point, but it wasn't going to happen. The best he could hope for was to ride it out, when the time came... and never mind the pernicious little voice whispering that he shouldn't _have to_ , that if Dima could just _stop being an ass_ \---

"Perhaps not, but I am not willing to stay any longer than absolutely necessary in this country."

Juri nodded, and suppressed that voice. Even if Dima did get much better, didn't mean he was actually attracted to him or would want to take the easiest solution. In fact... glancing down, Juri quickly looked away from the sharp slope of Dima's nose, as imperious as the rest of him, and the cut of those demanding cheekbones. He hadn't been warned that when Dima stopped pressing his lips together every second of the day, the shape of them were surprisingly generous. Perhaps the _only_ thing that was softly generous about him, because in fact, Juri would bet the Fortune he was carrying that Dima hadn't chosen the easy way out even once in his life.

"I don't know, I think it has its charms!" The grin was a little forced, but when Dima glanced up at him, a sideways cut of exasperated incredulity, open in a way he'd not seen before excepting Dima's cutting condescension and anger, Juri found himself honestly laughing. What he got in rebuke was a soft snort that might even have been reluctantly amused.

"Getting to be carted around must be a perk," Dima said, his voice dry enough for a desert and his face expressionless, but one ear was still turned towards Juri and his tail, when Juri glanced over his shoulder, moved in a soft, almost jaunty, sweep behind him. He would've said something clever, truly, but Dima had also flexed his arm right then, pressing up against his weight, and Juri lost any semblance of train of thought, reminded that Dima was carrying him on nothing but his one arm and shoulder while navigating the increasingly busy streets.

"Uh--- I guess." Clearing his throat, Juri quickly looked around for something, anything, to distract him, and spotted a small stall that instantly drew not just the attention of his eyes, but his nose as well. He didn't even think about hesitating, no matter how frivolous it was. "How much money do we still have?"

There was no way they actually could use his pretty bare funds to keep them in supplies on the road without having to supplement it by hunting; Juri didn't have that much money, not even at the start of a journey and if it went off without a hitch. He always had to (and why wouldn't he, he enjoyed it) supplement it by working, either with his flute or his dancing, and since he couldn't exactly do _either_ right now without risking them being found by Baki's soldiers... well, hunting and getting only what they absolutely had to by buying it it was.

He could feel Dima's eyes on him, and refused to either blush over the very human sweet tooth he did have that he was now displaying, _or_ apologize for the 'waste' of the money it'd be if they had enough. Technically it was all his and he could do whatever the hell he wanted with it, but there were two of them and food to consider.

Dima finally grunted, but Juri's expectation that he'd make a comment or just keep walking wasn't realized. Instead he redirected his steps to cut across the street and bought one of the small, fluffy pastries and handed it over. It was pure torture to keep his tail still enough he wouldn't make his clothes move more than they should, and the threatening headache turned into a real one with the way his ears were trying to perk up, but it was worth it.

The thing was warm and flaky in the best sort of slightly crispy turning soft inside sort of way, and the rose-flavoured jam inside exploded sweetly on his tongue. He might have made an embarrassing noise, but if so, Juri refused to acknowledge it, though he paused before he'd eaten more than half, glancing down.

"Do you want a bite?"

He expected the glance, faintly incredulous, but again Dima surprised him by swiping a dollop of jam that was threatening to spill out of the pastry and licked it off his finger - he had to look away, and the view was a spread of blue-roofed buildings with small, potted orange trees on them, down towards the gate on the other side of Kushrrata, that'd lead them out into the pass and to the other side of the Shahnkush. It did nothing to erase the image of the tip of Dima's finger disappearing past his lips.

"I'll not deprive you of any more as I assume you need the sweetness to replenish your supply, the way you spend it."

It took a startled second before Juri caught up to the fact that Dima had, again, teased him. At least that was, thankfully, surprising enough to dislodge any more unhelpful thoughts for laughter.

Leaving Kushrrata was easier and less stressful than entering it, though Juri was glad their dye jobs - especially Dima's, since his own was usually all hidden under the veil - lasted almost a week, because it took them two days alone to walk through the pass and finally come out the other end. At least Dima could stop carrying him as soon as Kushrrata was out of view, and, by the point they reached the other side of the pass, he had a fine, short fuzz on the back of his hands again. It felt like his hands were his own again when he saw that, and while it didn't take away his headaches, it eased some tension Juri hadn't even known was there. 

The vertical cliff sides of the Shahnkush were no less intimidating on this side than they'd been on the other as Juri turned to look up at the blue gate straddling the entrance to the pass, this one decorated not with lions being killed, but the intertwined symbols of Aphrassa and Maras, the guardian gods of Kurrata, and many other human countries and city-states besides. It was, if nothing else, less offensive. It wasn't like those scenes of lions on the other gate were actually subtle in any way.

The changes to Dima's behaviour stayed, which was both a relief and bewildering. It was also very much not helpful, because it was much harder to ignore things he'd been working very hard on not noticing when Dima was now not keeping himself at at least more than an arm's length away, when every glance his way wasn't stiff, when the tension didn't return. When there was some teasing _back_ , though it was always dry and maybe a little belated, like Dima either wasn't used to it, perhaps, or, maybe more likely, thought himself above it. Whatever dam Kushrrata had broken through stayed open, and Juri couldn't be sorry... except for when he was, because it was even harder when Dima, perhaps even without noticing it, started to actually touch him. A brush of his shoulder to catch his attention, Dima's tail accidentally brushing against the hem of his robe, a hand at the small of his back - all of them brief, quickly pulled away. Dima didn't stop, however, compared to how, before, he wouldn't touch Juri unless it was absolutely necessary. Had _meticulously_ kept himself out of range to even accidentally touch him, in fact. It was cruel, but not because it was _meant to be_.

It was just making it hard to ignore his thrice-cursed body.

"Juri."

Something which he was rudely reminded of when Dima bent down as they walked, having sped up to pass a small, but very loud, merchant party, and his lips almost brushed his covered ear as he murmured his name. The sound shot straight down, and Juri almost fell on his face - not helped at all by how his tail was still confined to the wide pants he was still wearing.

" _What_?" Blinking at his own harsh tone, and catching Dima's raised eyebrow, Juri cleared his throat, heat crawling up on his face and settling around his cheeks and the base of his ears. "Sorry. Headache."

"... Not surprised," Dima muttered, and he did not imagine the brief brush of fingers against his shoulders, almost too light to pick up on, "we'll get rid of these clothes soon. They've served their purpose, and we're being followed, anyway--- _Don't turn around_!"

Dima hissed, the previously light hand clamping down before he quickly removed it, though whether it was because he'd pulled all touches away quickly or more so as not to call attention to them, Juri wasn't sure. He could certainly get away with not carrying his 'mistress' out on the open road, but anyone around who caught what appeared to be a feli slave manhandling his human mistress would certainly not let that pass.

"Just keep walking. Whoever they are, they're certainly not an employed soldier, which is probably how they figured we were interesting enough to follow. It _might_ not even be because they're looking for us for Ar-Tumari," Dima continued, voice a low, low rumble that was doing things to Juri's gut and made the thin skin in his ear tingle, but Juri forced himself to focus. Cocked his head even as that changed the angle of the light and caused him to wince from the way it stabbed into his eyes, aggravating a headache that'd been basically constant since they left Kushrrata.

"How did you notice them?"

The small smile Juri caught out if the corner of his eyes was sharp and made Dima's eyes sparkle, despite how subdued it was. "They're not being as careful as they probably think they are."

Or Dima was just that good. Juri would rather bet on the latter - whatever his life in the tribes, he clearly had combat training and more besides that wasn't exactly standard hunting training. Juri wasn't sure how extensive his education was, and if it was just normal for the tribes, but Dima's behaviour sometimes... surely his imperious arrogance about some things wasn't _just_ because he was from the northern tribes? Or were all of them really that full of themselves?

Maybe. He wasn't about to ask, though. Dima's sudden change notwithstanding, Juri wasn't going to test it with _that_ sort of question.

"If you say so," Juri said with a shake of his head and a smile, then squinted down the road stretching out in front of them, "we should probably check the map tonight anyway. I think there's a fort along this road..."

Dima grunted in agreement and straightened up, lengthening his steps before reigning himself in so Juri didn't have to jog just to keep up with him. It was a small and honestly unnecessary courtesy (aside from how it would look to the other travellers at the moment), that Juri remembered very well hadn't been given at the start.

That evening they walked further away from the road than they had previously to find a spot to camp, not unusual in itself as they'd avoided all other groups of travellers as it was, whenever there was no caravanserai around to use and they were all left to camp by the side of the road. Dima pointedly found a shallow rise that could, with some good will, be called a hill and with nothing else but grass on and around it, for their camp, and left while Juri set things up. He came back with two lean rabbits, and Juri knew it was ridiculous to be annoyed he hadn't helped bring at least one of them in himself, but... he was. Sneaking a couple bites of raw rabbit helped soothe his offended sensibilities while they waited for the rest to roast, and Dima fished the map out when they were all but finished, the only light the fire they sat in front of, aside from the stars and the shard of a waxing moon above.

"The area should be settled enough we won't be slowed down overmuch, using smaller paths between fields and villages in the area," he said as he gestured to the drawn surroundings of the road where it gently curved away from the Shahnkush and the narrow spike of land between the Ar-Hurrn-Zami and where the mountains of the Shahnkush became Ar-Tamar. "Following perpendicular to the road for a while will be fine, but the closer we get to this fort, the more soldiers there'll be, not just _on the road_."

Frowning and scratching around the base of his left ear, itchy since noon and not _quite_ having been able to rub it away with the veil in place, Juri nodded. "And we can't assume just 'cause we got past Kushrrata, that he hasn't ordered the solders on _this_ side to look for us, when he's apparently got influence..."

Dima chuckled, a wry, soft sound, and Juri looked up, eyebrows raised.

"'Apparently'? Juri, he's the younger brother of the Shahn. He _definitely_ has the power to turn the whole country upside down while looking for us if he wishes to."

"... Oh." Yes, the name Ar-Tumari had been vaguely familiar, but Juri had certainly never had much cause to memorize the names of important nobles or rulers of the countries he passed through. Yes, of course he knew the most important ones in his _own_ country, but that wasn't quite the same. This was... not really surprising a revelation, and some part of him was further utterly _unsurprised_. The rest was sitting there in quiet exasperation. Of course it couldn't have been a minor noble or anything like that. No, _of course_ it had to be a member of Kurrata's royal family.

Of course.

Perhaps he should have paid more attention to what title Baki had been addressed with, but at that point it hadn't mattered, and he hadn't cared. A human was a human and a noble human was no different from another noble, only with more power to be a problem to the feli around them.

"With that in mind, and given our current company, when we're close enough to the fort we should dip far enough west to get a day or two into the desert---"

"Didn't you _listen_ to me when I explained why I was avoiding the desert?" Juri asked, not at all put off by the cool stare or brief flash of bared fang from Dima. Sure, interrupting him was rude, and Dima hadn't actually been saying his piece as a suggestion but with the clear weight of an already-settled plan. Juri, however, wasn't about to just sit there and accept it, even if it might ruin the fragile peace that'd settled in the last week.

"I heard you very well, and that's exactly _why_ we'll take that route. It's far less likely we meet any members of the feli who live in the desert a day or two into it. Running into Ar-Tumari's soldiers no matter how far east we go to circle the fort on the other side of it, however, is more or less given. The soldiers are probably avoiding the desert far more scrupulously than necessary, and whoever is following us will be equally reluctant to risk entering it."

It was sound. It was still _stupid_ in Juri's opinion, and he leaned forward again, staring narrowly at the map as he tried to find a better solution. Brushing a couple curls out of his eyes, he drew a line north from where they were now, following the hilly landscape that hugged the Shahnkush on both sides.

"Why don't we just go north, _now_ , and then turn west?"

"Because," Dima said, voice flat but surprisingly patient as he reached out, a large, warm hand closing around Juri's and pushing it away from the area he was covering. The bare, calloused skin of Dima's palm was tickling the fuzzy growth of fur on the back of his Juri's hand, covering the whole of it. "The further west and north we go, the _closer to the coast_ we come, and the more densely populated the land will be. We've been moving in practically abandoned land up until now."

Dima let go of his hand with a twitch of his fingers, and Juri let go of the breath he'd apparently been holding. He was, suddenly, _very_ grateful for the fact that he was still wearing the clothes of a Kurratan woman and not his own. Avoiding Dima's gaze, Juri chose to stare at the map instead. Licked his lips and flexed his hand, still feeling the ghostly weight that'd been around it.

"... I still think it's a bad idea."

"Duly noted." It was as much acknowledgement as it was dismissal, and Juri looked up with a scowl, hackles half-raised under the press of clothes. 

They _both_ froze when their eyes met, Dima with a hand in the air, which he then quickly dropped and went to fold the map up again. Had he really been about to touch him again? If so, there hadn't been any tension or anger in the gesture, and this was... so very different from how things had been early on. 

"Like I said, there's far smaller chance there are any desert feli that close to Kurrata's borders, Juri."

Frowning, he looked down and away, one hand creeping up in his hair to massage around one of his poor, abused ears again, but he nodded, if reluctantly.

"You're probably right."

He _hoped_ he was. He had no interest in finding out if the stories were even half as true as much as they might be exaggerations.

If nothing else, they ditched their disguises next morning, and Juri could honestly have cried in relief. His headache lifted almost immediately, though his ears and the scalp around them were tender for a couple days after, and tingled intermittently for longer than that. The whole thing had, on the whole, been less humiliating than he'd feared - mostly he'd actually forgotten he was wearing women's clothes, as the biggest issue had come down to being treated and looked at as if he was _human_. Which, okay, it'd certainly made the humans they passed on the road and in Kushrrata treat him better, but it was still deeply unsettling. Maybe it was weird, but he rather preferred the looks and condescension, if only because it was more honest. He _wasn't_ just human, and certainly didn't actually look as if that was all he was. 

They weren't slowed down too much by leaving the big road again, luckily, even if at this point, it probably didn't matter much. They would be out in the middle of nowhere in another couple weeks or whatever, either way. And if they were actually close to a village or town, it wouldn't necessarily be safe to approach it. Juri wasn't foolish enough to think Dima's change meant more than what it seemed. He was just grateful it'd happened at all, because it made things infinitely easier and, even, pleasant. 

The smaller roads and paths they used were still more well-tended here where there were more people living in the surroundings, even if the land down here wasn't as fertile and soft as the coastal parts of Kurrata was. The hilly land slowly flattened out, leaving patches of southern oak forest and copses of desert cypresses dotting the gently rolling land, still mostly dry and hard but certainly not the bare waste further east. Even when the land started to incline slightly upwards again, drying out further as the road took them closer to the edge of the desert, though not within view of it yet, it was still a more gentle harshness than the magical one on the other side of the Shahnkush. There was still an abundance of greenery and animals, just those suited for the changing surroundings. A little over two weeks later, they were standing on the top of a hill, a vast stretch of scrubby grazing land to their left, and the fort they definitely wanted to avoid on the horizon. Juri was surprised they hadn't gone further west before now.

"Are we still..?"

"Yes. I just wanted to wait until the seemingly last possible moment, as it'd make it harder for our company to plan anything, in the case they were."

Grimacing silently, Juri nodded. Dima insisted they - whoever 'they' were - were still following them, and Juri might even have picked them out once or twice. At the moment, however, he could swear there was no one around but the lean cattle out on the fields to their left, even as he glanced around, his ears twitching as well.

"You need a better poker face, Juri," Dima said with a wry twist of his mouth, and there was, again, an aborted reach of one hand before he simply brushed it briefly against Juri's shoulder, and he huffed, smiling.

"I usually don't need it, so I've never bothered to try."

Dima shook his head and turned them straight towards the fenced-in grazing field, though the fence itself was easily scaled and the cattle ignored them as they crossed the flat land. They walked for longer that day, not stopping until it was late enough only feli (or an orc or goblin) would easily have been able to navigate the ground in the dark, and Juri was pleased that, despite his less sharp night vision, he still managed to catch them dinner.

They'd planned more carefully over the weeks it'd taken to get here, on the edge of the badlands and the rising incline that'd take them up onto the desert plateau that butted up against the Ar-Tamar mountains. Water would be trickier than food, but since they'd had time to plan it, and they were also not planning to go much deeper than a day or two, they ought not need too much.

Optimistic, perhaps, but that part seemed the smallest of the risks that they were taking here in Juri's opinion, but he lodged no more complaints and followed Dima as the land rose. At points, they even had to climb, if only because they were taking the most direct route instead of the easiest. There was no magical line in the sand, so to speak, not like there was back by the wasteland, but the air slowly became drier and hotter and the landscape turned craggy over the next couple days, harder rock pillars rising in twisted twirls and arcs, casting precious shadow in the rising temperatures. The biggest difference in the greenery, such as it was, was that the sparse grass and leafy plants completely disappeared, overtaken by more thicker-leaved cousins. Some of them with far more wicked spines than the ones further west had shown, and Juri held up his hand to the trunk of one impressively tall specimen and shuddered, maybe a little theatrically, at the sight of the spines being the length of his hand.

You could kill someone with that.

On the third day, there was sand underneath their feet, and in the distance, hazy with heat and the glare of sunlight, were the suggestion of dunes. It was also _hot_ , and the sand wasn't helping things.

"If we're going deeper, we should stop walking at least the hours around and after noon," Juri said with a frown, a hand up to shield his eyes as he squinted into the glare of the sun. Both of their pupils were probably nothing more than sharp little oval slivers now, with this light. Dima grunted in agreement, though he was frowning.

"Just a couple hours more, and then we turn north. Let's set up some sort of shelter in the meantime."

Honestly, they were about as prepared for this as they'd been for the week-long blizzard, but it still seemed easier to deal with. Temporarily taking off his shirt under the protection of their half-assed blanket shelter and sitting next to Dima was less unpleasant than being cold, almost freezing. This would be for far less than a whole week, too. 

It was, almost, beautiful. 

The fuzzy heat haze made the blue sky more intense and lent an edge of unreality to the surroundings, a softness that veiled the danger, while the distant dunes were curved like wind made solid. 

"It almost looks like an ocean, doesn't it?" Juri murmured, though he quickly closed his mouth again with a little grimace, because he could swear he could feel the moisture being drawn out as he spoke.

"Yes," Dima sighed, but the tone was softly exasperated, not cutting, "it does. Try not to talk _too much_ , we need to save as much moisture as we can."

Cutting a sideways glance up at Dima, he just met Juri's pointed look with a flat arch of his eyebrows. As if he _hadn't_ just wasted far more words than Juri had by adding his admonishment. Rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a smile, Juri curled up around his legs and closed his eyes. Napping for a little seemed like a good idea as any in this heat, until they had to set off again.

The evening cooled the air surprisingly quickly, which was a stark difference to when they'd crossed the wasteland after the storm had passed; there, the heat had lingered through most of the night, a thick, wet blanket of it, no matter the high, clear skies. Here, the heat disappeared up into the wide open dark of space, the stars cold and distant, seemingly having absorbed all the heat and hungry for more. The waxing moon was yellow, a tilted eye in the sky, and the sand was now comfortable to walk, faint heat still embracing their toes even as the air grew chilly. 

Tilting his head back, sweat dry for the first time that day, Juri watched the sparkling stars, and they looked both further away and closer than they had anywhere else he'd seen a sky, so many one could become dizzy with it. 

They were walking the first ridge of an actual dune when Dima stopped, his tail lashing once, and Juri didn't need to ask. He could see the thin pillar of smoke in front of them, rising up from below the other side of the dune a short distance away, hear the shuffle of animals - horses, was his guess. Dima gestured sharply without turning around, and Juri followed the motion backwards, using the hollows of his own footsteps to retreat without having to look.

Perhaps he _should_ have looked.

Dima whirled around, drawing his sword at the same Juri didn't just smell distant smoke and horse and sand, but also _feli_. The scent was sharp and fresh and much closer than he would've expected for not having picked up anything of them before now.

He lurched forward again, Dima's fingers brushing his own as he flung a hand out, but an arm looped around in front of his face and then yanked him back against a chest as it clamped around his throat, and there was a wickedly curved knife right in the corner of one of his eyes. Juri froze as he was pressed up against a hard body, though his head was pillowed against softer curves, and tried to breathe past the arm pressed against his throat. Watched as three other feli, clad in flowing, sand-coloured robes and with loose veiling to shield their heads but leaving their ears free, came up from where they'd apparently been lurking against the sides of the dunes, under the ridge.

"Put that sword down." The feli behind him sounded almost pleasant, her accent rolling around the words of the common feli dialect as if she wasn't half strangling Juri and as if she _didn't_ have a long knife with particularly worrying hooks along one edge so near his face that if he flinched, he might lose an eye. Dima stared at her above his head, then flicked a glance down to meet Juri's eyes, wide and tense, and the blue of Dima's own were like lamplight in the dark.

One heartbeat, Dima's lips twisted.

Two heartbeats, a rumbling growl might have rattled his chest if it hadn't quickly been smothered, Dima still staring at Juri.

Three heartbeats, and the sword thumped down onto the sand, sending a couple skittering streams down the dune.

"Good choice," she said, and Juri could hear the smile in her voice.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The consequences of Dima's decision to go into the desert pile up, leaving both of them increasingly uncomfortable and unhappy.

With the sun beating down on top of them even when it was still only early mid-morning and the only thing fending it off was someone having - kindly or not - given him a wrap similar to their own, Juri was almost grumpy and unsettled enough to blame Dima for this. It _was_ his fault they'd gone this deep into the desert, and if they hadn't they wouldn't have been here at all. All he could dredge up as he tried to look around over his shoulder to spot Dima on the other end of the little troupe thundering away over the sands was worry, and a wish that they could've been kept closer to each other.

"Eyes forward," the feli who he was sharing horse and saddle with snapped, the rolling accent almost making the words unintelligible, and Juri grimaced but turned to face forward again, staring between the horse's perked ears. They'd been separated last night, and there'd been a minimum of several meters between them since then, and between either of them and his bags. Juri wasn't sure what that was supposed to accomplish - well, at least, the distance between him and Dima. Things had gotten better, lately. _More_ than better, really, but... While Dima had allowed the threat of Juri being hurt or killed yesterday subdue him, Juri wasn't sure he wouldn't, if given a chance, go for the bags - or, hell, simply steal resources where he could and then leave, alone. Just because he didn't want to be directly responsible for Juri's death, and had been... nice, lately, didn't mean he wouldn't take an opportunity if it presented itself.

It wasn't like Dima carried anything that was _his_ , in the end. What did he care about what was _in the bags_ , when what was in there was all Juri's things, aside from food supplies? It wasn't like Dima knew one of those bags held one of the Thirteen Fortunes of Spring. If he did, he'd still have far more incentive to go for the bags alone, then, and not _him_.

Juri couldn't even say he would hold it against him, though the thought left him cold and almost turning to search Dima out again.

He could understand it, if that was what Dima chose to do, given the opportunity to do it. He hoped he wouldn't. Hoped, as the sun rose towards noon and they struck up a temporary camp and he was given some bare amounts of water, that Dima would actually go through the effort of taking him with him, if he was given the chance. Or better yet, that any opportunity would come without the easiest path being for Dima to leave alone, sidestepping any choice of leaving Juri behind.

Just because things had been better the last few weeks, didn't mean Juri missed what was most certainly a resentful stare or two that evening, thrown across the campsite.

Like this was _his_ fault!

Juri was still relieved when he woke the next morning and Dima was still there, as if he somehow might have been able to circumvent his hands being tied and the troupe of armed desert feli surrounding them and been able to slip away. Not that he would actually want them both to suffer this if they didn't _have to_ , but... was it so terrible of him, to wish not to be alone through it?

Maybe, and Juri felt a little guilty for it.

There wasn't much difference to the second day compared to the first, with the horses crossing rolling dunes and down between flatter ground between them, hooves always a muted thump on the sand and the sun a hard gem in the sky. There was no wind, but if there had been, it wouldn't have been a relief; it'd only have whipped up sand with a choking hot dryness and made it even harder to breathe. This time, though, they didn't stop when noon came and passed, the reason obvious when early afternoon burned heavy in the air and they went down a dune to find a sparkling little oasis cradled between two long, shallow dunes. It was barely more than the size of a large city fountain, but palms ringed it and cast narrow shadows onto the ground, covered by shy greenery and tougher desert plants, all of them flowering in delicate shades of pinks, reds and yellows, and surrounded by a surprisingly large number of tents.

Pulled down from the horse, Juri was prodded over to Dima, who glanced down at him with... a surprisingly longer look than Juri would've expected from the glares last night. He didn't linger on that, though, rather more surprised when their hands were untied and they were marched through the camp towards the largest tent, the outside of it still looking no different than the rest, but when the flaps were pulled apart it was obvious this wasn't just _any_ tent. Not with how one of their captors spoke up, pointedly using the common dialect instead of their own native one.

"Lord Ar-Alhana."

They were pushed inside and pressed down onto thick, boldly coloured carpets while Juri's few bags were dropped in front of the feli who sat in a low, backless chair, clearly foldable but the heavy wood still richly carved. Juri couldn't help looking up to watch his bags, knowing _exactly_ what was in one of them and having no hope of it _not_ being found if the man chose to search them, and flinched forward, ears flicking back and a spark of pain sliding down his spine from the firm cuff he got for the boldness of that action. He dropped his gaze back to the floor, as much as he didn't want to, and studied the swirl of pattern in the carpet he was kneeling on instead.

"So what do we have here? I'm told you were found hours past the outer line of the desert, but I suppose foreigners wouldn't know any better." The voice had a mocking lilt, deeper than expected but with a musical weight to it. It was accompanied by the metallic chime of anklets, just barely seen under the fall of his robe as the Lord Ar-Alhana shifted his legs, then stood up in one smooth motion. "What were you doing in the desert?"

Juri frowned, staring at the carpet, then glanced over to Dima from the corner of his eyes, but all he could see was a blank, almost _serene_ expression on his face, his eyes closed. Clearly he was going to deal with this like he had dealt with the slave catchers in the cavern, which was really no help at all when Ar-Alhana clearly expected answers, _interaction_ , instead of using them for his amusement. Admittedly, maybe the latter would come in some fashion too, but for now it was potentially a lot less unpleasant. It didn't make Juri any less uncertain how to proceed or what to say.

" _Answer me_!" The crack of fury, lightning-quick all the way down into the lashing tail, shot Juri's heart up into his throat, but he swallowed it down. Dima was silent and still, and _of course_ he thought it beneath him to talk. Glancing at him again, Juri wasn't sure if it was because he expected Juri to do the talking, or if he was playing some other sort of game. Whatever it was, Juri wasn't willing to gamble when he didn't know what Dima was thinking, what he might, or might not, do.

"Just... passing through," Juri finally found enough voice to say, licking his dry lips and shoulders twitching in a shrug. He only realized afterwards that might be inadvisable to say, _too flippant_ and not enough of an actual explanation, and the steel grip on his chin as their host snapped a hand out and tipped his head up proved it. It was at least less retaliation than he'd feared for taking so long to answer.

"Yes?" Eyes like midnight met Juri's mismatched ones, revealing an elegantly curving nose and a sharp-featured face angled with aristocratic arrogance, amusingly similar to Dima's clean features. Not that they were the least bit related aside from being feli and, in some ways, sharing a similarly free life, so who knew, they might have more in common than he and Dima did. Aside from that, this feli had a narrower, more delicate look to him, muscled but willowy where Dima was broad, and his fur was a rich, golden buff colour, lacking any stripes or spots at all. More than that, his ears were as pointed as Juri's, not rounded like Dima's. The sneer pulling the lips was, however, even more poisonous than any Dima had ever given him, _somehow_. "Two foreigners, and one in collar and cuffs? You wouldn't be anything but a tolerated bastard child by the look of you, _if that_ , and certainly wouldn't have a slave of your own, even less one like that, and you're only _passing through_?"

It was easy to ignore the dig about _what he was_ in the circumstances. Far safer to do so, certainly. There were claws digging into his skin now, and the grip was too firm to allow Juri to nod, so he shrugged again and tried for a smile, brief and tight as it was. His stomach felt like it was filled with leaden chains keeping a host of butterflies captive. 

"It seemed like the better option."

"Hah."

He was let go with a snap of the hand, so quickly he almost fell sideways into the carpet but caught himself just in time. A reason to be at least a little grateful his hands had been untied. Didn't feel like he'd won anything at all as Ar-Alhana stalked over to stand in front of Dima, and when he glanced over, caught Dima slowly opening his eyes like he, not the young man in front of him, was the one with the power here.

"What do _you_ have to say for yourself?" The desert lord's tail was lashing in quick, agitated movements, ears pinned back and his dark eyes narrowed; he clearly was picking up on Dima's straight-backed, easy confidence as much as Juri had. Blue eyes barely flicked in Juri's direction, then met Ar-Alhana's dark gaze, one eyebrow arching up just slightly.

"He's not wrong."

_He's not wrong_. It was strange how a few soft, flat words could sound like glowing praise. There was no mocking sneer in them, no condescension, even now that they weren't alone and Dima might have reason completely aside from personal sentiment to show no particular sentiment for him. Juri stared, and when their gazes met, for one split second before Dima looked back at Ar-Alhana, the weight in Dima's eyes almost stole his breath. At least he was apparently not blaming Juri for their capture anymore. Sure, in the end it didn't necessarily mean anything, didn't mean Dima would be trying to save anyone but himself. Though surely that sort of look meant _something_ and so far Dima had always, even back when he certainly didn't like Juri in even the smallest of ways, kept him out of danger of being killed. Juri was both hoping that'd still prove true, _and_ hoping it wouldn't be put to the test again. He really rather would avoid any more life-or-death situations.

It was probably a useless hope.

"I'm inclined to believe you," Ar-Alhana said, flicking a glance Juri's way and then back to Dima, and Juri thought he'd choke on his tongue when one slender, long-fingered hand snapped forward and closed like a trap around a fistful of Dima's moon-pale hair, though turned rather dusty gray by all the sand, and yanked. Dima's composed serenity broke, if not into a snarl, then a flat, dark expression that was all the more threatening for how subdued it was. Ar-Alhana seemed unperturbed, answering it with a darkly challenging grin on his face. "But I think it's more than that."

He let go, and Dima didn't sway or so much as shift his stance despite that there'd definitely been more force in that movement compared to when Ar-Alhana had let go of Juri. Ar-Alhana stalked back to his seat and sat down, bending now to the bags. He upended first the one, and then the other. He'd started with the wrong bag, though Juri's hope that the fickle-seeming temperament would leave the lord to stop throwing clothes, his flute case and food on the carpeted floor before he found the real treasure within proved fruitless.

"Ah." Ar-Alhana straightened up when he came to the scarf-wrapped egg, clearly recognizing it as having been both hidden and protected, and slowly unwound the fabric, letting it pool on top of the pile of Juri's clothes, where the green-gold shimmer of the fabric twinkled in the light, clearly finer than the rest. "Pretty, I suppose, but kind of garish. Typical human frippery."

A laugh was in his voice now, dark eyes angled with amusement and echoed in the way his fangs were flashed as the Fortune was held up to the enchanted lamp hanging from the roof in the center of the tent.

"Who did you steal this from?"

He didn't know.

Juri stilled his tail, exhaled as softly as he could, and shrugged. Admittedly he wasn't even looking at _Ar-Alhana_ at the moment; he was looking at Dima, trying to watch him without being obvious about it from behind his curls. Dima's tail flicked once, a sharp, nearly convulsive movement, then stilled, and his ears hadn't so much as twitched; but they _were_ trembling a little, as if they _wanted_ to move but Dima wouldn't let them. His face had gone completely blank, but his blue eyes were dark. His self-control was practically legendary considering one of the national treasures of his people had just been dismissed as 'human frippery'.

"It doesn't belong to the noble who had it," Juri decided to say, looking back to the lord seated in front of them, feeling the tension in the tent like static charge in the fur on his back and arms. He had no idea what Dima might do - might have done, as the charge making his teeth itch eased up some as he spoke, but he would do his very best to avoid having Dima lose his temper. Dima could be an infuriating, petty and prejudiced asshole, though even if he hadn't been less of one lately Juri wouldn't have wanted Dima to get hurt because of this. Hell, Dima even deserved to be angry at having the Fortune be insulted, but if he lost his control, Juri was sure the fallout would be awfully ugly.

"So you took it on yourself to liberate it," Ar-Alhana said, and then burst out laughing, a surprisingly bright and genuine sound as he watched Juri through narrowed, glittering eyes, "the 'better option', I see." The amusement turned like a knife angled to catch the light of a lamp. Ar-Alhana's smile was sharply pointed as he stood up, the Fortune dropped onto the seat of his chair without thought. Juri could hear Dima shift behind him, but since he was keeping his eyes on Ar-Alhana, he couldn't look to see what he might have betrayed with the Fortune treated that way.

"Stand up."

Startled when the feli came to a stop in front of him, Juri was a little slow to respond - and was yanked to his feet by his _hair_. Hissing, the sound curiously in stereo for a brief moment, the echo of it a little darker than his own voice, Juri dug his unsheathed claws into his own palms to keep from lashing out in that vital moment between getting up and relieving the pull on his hair and partially dangling by the grip itself with his whole body pulling on his hair. At least he was allowed to catch his balance and there was no cuff to the back of his head as he straightened up, meeting dark eyes squarely.

Ar-Alhana was still smiling. It was a tiny, fang-bared quirk of his lips as he slowly started circling Juri with lazy intent, his sharp gaze a near physical thing. Juri should perhaps have expected the brief, feathery brush of fingertips along the curve of his ass, but it made him startle anyway, followed by the shift of fabric behind him and a chuckle from much closer behind. The next touch was to his hip, and this time Juri managed to stay still, though he flexed his hands into fists, the tips of his claws digging into his palms. When Ar-Alhana was facing him again, he cocked his head, one eyebrow arched and just stared for several long seconds that dragged far longer than they definitely were.

Juri didn't even have the chance to flinch when unsheathed claws shredded the front of his shirt, surprisingly leaving not a scratch on the skin underneath. His stomach quivered in belated reaction before he froze again, realizing what had happened.

"Wha---" Looking down at the ribbons decorating his chest, just barely attached at the shoulders and waist, Juri looked up - and got a hand smacked over his mouth, thumb and fingers digging into his cheeks. Ar-Alhana was looking somewhere behind him instead of _at him_ now, and Juri couldn't turn his head to look. Probably just one of the guards, though the smirk on Ar-Alhana's face was darkly amused in a way that didn't seem quite right for that.

"Take this one and get him something more fitting to wear. And as for the other one..." Ar-Alhana paused, his smile widening further to somewhere between mocking and challenging, matching the tilt of his ears, the bold sweep of his tail, "give him a tent as befits someone bearing traits of the wilds. I'll have use of him later."

That didn't sound good. _None of this was good_ , and Juri didn't want to know what 'more fitting clothes' was supposed to mean, but right now, the most overt threat seemed to be against _Dima_. Have use of him later? Juri suppressed a shiver at the phrasing as well as the tone the words had been said in. Again, the man was an arrogant and imperious and had been a condescending ass for a greater part of the journey, but he didn't deserve what those words or tone implied, not even if Dima hadn't also proven to be surprisingly kind and witty and _considerate_ in his own distant way, at times.

Ar-Alhana pushed Juri away at that moment, and he fell back with a grunt against one of the guards who took a grip at the back of his neck, shredded shirt and hair both caught in her fist, and dragged him off. Passing Dima, Juri was once again surprised as Dima didn't dismiss him with a quick glance. Instead there was a look of clouded rage on his pale face, one which darkened when he tried to give him a smile.

Well, okay. Either Dima thought himself above the need for any attempts at reassurance in a tense situation like this, because he was a _big bad feli from the northern tribes_ and needed no support from anyone else, or he was, maybe, angry for Juri's sake. Juri had no idea which it was, certainly hoped for the second a little more than the first, but most definitely he hoped Dima would be okay either way. Admittedly, he should probably worry more about himself at the moment. _Definitely_ should worry about himself as he was dragged out of the tent, across the sand between the other tents, and pulled inside. It was at that moment he realized the guard was the same one who'd caught him two days ago, and she let go of him after pushing him deeper inside, then went for one of the chests.

"Water will be brought and you'll do your best to wash off, or someone will do it _for you_ ," she said as she dug through the chest, pushing aside bits of clothing or items Juri was starting to think must come from outside the desert tribes, because most of them didn't fit the style or patterns of anything he'd seen in the camp so far.

"Right." He said it mostly to hear himself, not because she'd actually need (or would even care for) a confirmation that he'd heard her. Juri didn't doubt the threat though, and as little as he wanted to cooperate, he wanted even less to have it realized. Being washed by strangers, or forced to wash while strangers watched, weapons trained on him? No thanks. 

Another feli came in with a large, shallow bowl filled with steaming water and a cloth hanging over the edge, and the sight of it reminded Juri of how dusty he was, that it'd been days since he'd had a chance to wash, even just a cursory wipe-down. It didn't make the prospect of washing right now any more attractive, even less when the woman who'd dragged him in here stood up, frowning at the trailing bits of fabric in her hand. It was gold and mint green, the light playing over it in a way that told Juri it was definitely finer than anything he'd ever touched before, aside from the scarf he'd wrapped around the Fortune. He didn't feel any particular urge to have the chance to touch it now either, honestly.

"What does he expect of me, miracles?" she muttered with a shake of her head, getting a sympathetic clap on her shoulder from the other feli, and with a last, pointed look between Juri and the bowl, they both left. It was pretty bare comfort, since he wouldn't get to dress in his own clothes, and most of them, the few changes he had, at the moment spread on the floor in front of Ar-Alhana's chair. Even if one set of them might have been nicer than the others, which they admittedly weren't, Juri doubted 'practical and clean' was 'something more fitting to wear'. Not with how that fabric had sparkled in the light and he'd seen the suggestion of the feli's hand through it. Gritting his teeth, Juri heaved a sigh and pulled his ruined shirt off, then, more reluctantly, undid the belt and skimmed out of his pants. Even the wind wafting in from the partially-closed tent flap was warm, so he was hardly cold, but the brush of air over skin and fur reminded him of how naked he was.

In the middle of a camp full of hostile feli.

"Great. Just... _great_. Shit." Scrubbing his face, Juri dragged one hand down until he could tangle it into the loose tail of hair hanging over his shoulder and tug it, though the prickle of pain just reminded him of getting yanked off his feet earlier and he stopped. Reluctantly, he knelt down and picked the cloth up after getting it wet. He really would rather wash himself, after all, and who knew how much patience these people would have for his reluctance?

Juri focused on the water, the cloth, and his own limbs to keep his hands steady. Kept his thoughts on what he was doing, not what might come _after_ , because that would help absolutely nothing at all. His brain unhelpfully also wandered back to Dima's anger when he'd been pulled out of the tent, to the expression on his face when he'd finished his dance back in Kushrrata... The half of a glance they'd caught when Dima had gone with Dilshad. Juri rather missed that last moment, if not because how it'd made him feel, but that it had been so simple. Juri's wandering thoughts didn't stop him from finishing what he was doing, and it was hot and dry enough that at the point he'd washed himself off and was sort of patting through his hair with the cloth, the rest of him - skin and fur both - was practically dry already.

"You're finished, good."

"Gh---!" Swallowing the startled yelp, Juri whipped around to stare up at the same female feli who'd dragged him here earlier, then twisted away immediately, bristled tail going from stiff behind him to curling around one leg. The flush that swamped him right then had much less to do with the unrelenting heat of the desert and far more to do with the fact that he was naked. He'd hoped he'd have enough warning to maybe pull something from one of those chests to at least temporarily cover himself with before anyone came back in. Both because he certainly didn't like being naked in front of people he hadn't _chosen to be naked_ in front of, and because he really didn't need any more judgemental looks.

" _Here_." The grunt might have been dismissive as she thrust the pile of fabric towards him, but he could feel the burning judgement in her gaze, and caught the slight curl of her lips. It was a pity this was probably being done to humiliate him and not because Ar-Alhana thought he was _attractive_. If it'd been the latter, seeing him in whatever possibly-revealing outfit he'd just been given would probably have been enough to kill any of that potential attraction, and maybe he would have been able to get out of whatever would happen.

Probably no such luck.

Taking the clothes before they were shoved at him, Juri didn't move until the woman gave a disgusted mutter and left. _Then_ he shook whatever he'd been given out, and, after turning both pieces around in his hands, trying to figure them out, swallowed his dismay with a muttered curse, cheeks hot again. It was worse than he'd thought.

"Think I prefer Dima's old attitude to _this_ ," he muttered, a shudder briefly ruffling his spots of fur. With no other choice here, Juri set about undoing the catches on the vest, quickly revealed to be short enough to only just about cover his pectorals and no more than that. There were no sleeves, even short ones, and he felt disconcertingly exposed. Even more so when one took into account the open sides of the legs on what was supposed to be pants, the ballooning end of them gathered around his ankles. The fabric was also no longer gold and mint, but rather gold and blue, and, realizing that as he stroked his hands over the low waistband as it hugged his hips, wondered if this fabric had even been any clothes at all before that guard had got her hands on it. She must have some sort of magic, but Juri wasn't sure if it might be enchantment or physical manipulation. Either could probably produce this result, by different methods.

It'd be impressive if it didn't make him feel as naked as it did. The fabric was thin, just barely _not_ see-through, and clung like liquid; shifted against his skin with the feel of the same, and he'd like it if it weren't for, well... this whole situation. Tugging on his hair, Juri contemplated the risk and reward of hiding until he was dragged out of here, but he'd rather face this under his own power, as much as he had any at all right now. That meant taking a breath, gritting his teeth, and walking out of the tent.

The sun blinded him for a moment, so what he noticed first was a few, muffled mutters in the desert felin's own dialect and thus unintelligible to him. Squinting at the two guards, he ducked away when the woman reached for him, but he didn't try to run, so she seemed to consider that good enough. Gestured him on, back the way they'd come when he'd been dragged over here, and Juri reluctantly followed the same path back. He tried to peer into any even partially open tents they passed, but he didn't see Dima at all. He hoped he was okay. Sure, Ar-Alhana hadn't sounded mocking when he'd mentioned a 'tent as befitting' someone bearing traits of the wilds, but as sought-after as Dima's features were, as respected as they were (which also tended to make the few who sported them pretty arrogant), most would be intensely jealous of the same too. Even more so, Juri was pretty damn sure, if you happened to be a lord of one of the few utterly free felin populations in the world and didn't sport any of those traits yourself. Besides, Ar-Alhana seemed the type to take injury from even smaller things than that.

He'd seen neither hide nor hair of Dima by the time he was back in front of Ar-Alhana's tent, late afternoon sun pressing down like a heavy blanket instead of the anvil of noon, so there was nothing to do but get pushed back inside. Brushing curls out of his eyes so he could throw a proper glare over his shoulder since he hadn't gotten the chance to tie up his hair again, Juri muttered another curse.

"Ah, _there_ we are."

Juri snapped around with a sensation like lead in his gut, and met sparkling dark eyes across the tent where Ar-Alhana was standing by his chair, having either moved or kicked the things he'd emptied out of Juri's bags to the side. He dropped the Fortune back on the seat as he straightened up, the tiny, sharp smile back on his face.

"You clean up well, kitten, despite how unfortunate parts of you look." 

Again, Ar-Alhana stalked forward and around him, and now it was even harder to stand still and not turn with him to keep his eyes on him. There was no one else in the tent now, and Juri hadn't realized how much... easier, it'd been to deal with Ar-Alhana's attention when Dima had been in here sharing it. Juri missed the rage Dima had almost been vibrating with, and that, he realized, was what was the most different to when the slave catchers had found them, despite that the situation was marginally similar. Dima hadn't expressed much emotion at all about it, until he'd suggested they walk instead of settle back down for the rest of the night. He hadn't _cared_ as much as he did now, and it seemed it wasn't just because of the Fortune. 

Juri's tail lashed jerkily and then stiffened as Ar-Alhana stopped behind him, claws ghosting down the fur at center of his back, digging in just slightly at the base of his tail. Normally, that would've felt nice. Now, the shudder that came from it jangled across his nerves like fur stroked the wrong way. 

" _Very_ well. But..."

The hand disappeared from his back, and instead rose up to run long fingers through his hair. Juri bit his lip and swallowed down bile as Ar-Alhana picked up the mass of his hair, shifting it, then slowly trailed his fingers through the strands again before he tugged on a couple curls and finally let go. Coming back around, he crossed the tent and disappearing behind a partition. When he came back, he was carrying a comb Juri was pretty sure must be made of gold and decorated with tiny, unfamiliar gems that flashed in green and red as the light fell on them.

"I think this... ah." Ar-Alhana paused, slim eyebrows rising up as his gaze dropped, staring at Juri's stomach. The muscles twitched as if the look was a physical touch, his ears flicking back before he could keep them still. Juri had to fist his hands at his sides to not raise one of them to cover the small gold ring set in the bottom edge of his navel. "That's more interesting than I thought you'd be."

Ar-Alhana's smile was lazy and dark, and the look he swept across him was slower this time. Juri shifted back one half step, knowing he was blushing. He'd never regretted that one indulgence the navel ring had been, but right now the piercing made him feel even more naked than he actually was, which was a feat considering how the fabric was clinging _everywhere_. He was very uncomfortably aware of how snug it was around his cock and balls, which were doing their level best to try and crawl up into his body. He was no longer sure this was about humiliating him - at least not only that. 

Ar-Alhana finally stopped staring and walked around him again, twisting some of his hair away from his face and using the comb to pin it back, but he didn't immediately come around to stand in front of Juri. Instead he reached around with one hand, giving the piercing a flick as he leaned down, whispering into one stiff ear that Juri had turned towards him when he walked behind him earlier.

"I have chains at home that could be attached to this," Ar-Alhana murmured while he tugged on the ring, and Juri was forced to bite his lip at the way the sensation shot through him, "much more interesting than a collar and leash, even if that would fit a tamed half-breed such as yourself. We could even match it by adding rings in your nipples."

Another tug, the large, slim hand letting go but skating sideways, down the jut of his hipbone and tracing the waistband before Ar-Alhana stepped away, Juri glaring at the floor with the tips of his claws digging into his palms. Who was Ar-Alhana to talk about _tamed_ when his ears were as pointed as Juri's and he was the regular height for tall feli that didn't sport any of the traits of the wilds? Of course, Ar-Alhana - and the rest of the desert tribes - might consider any but themselves 'tamed', instead of _just_ going by the presence of rounded ears, stripes and spots and the greater height that came with being marked by the wilds. Few had those, and even fewer nowadays.

"So quiet, now. Nothing to say?" Ar-Alhana's tone was sharp, his smile mocking as he stopped in front of Juri, and he looked up, eyes narrowed.

"You're not _really_ interested in hearing anything I say," he said, not making it a question. Ar-Alhana laughed, another one of those weirdly pleasant and genuine-seeming ones, and leaned forward to trail a finger down Juri's chin, tapping it.

"No. Not really. Even if you didn't sound like an insult to our species' language, you're here for your looks, not your wit. And don't squint, half-breed. You look a lot sweeter when your eyes are wide."

Jerking back, Juri tried to pretend like his stomach hadn't just knotted up at the way Ar-Alhana's voice had dropped. He'd definitely been wrong about this being just about humiliating him, and equally wrong in his belief that if Ar-Alhana was interested, he'd lose any interest when he saw him more exposed. Juri didn't get very far as one slim, strong hand clamped down on his shoulder and turned him around, thumb briefly stroking the freckled curve.

"We'll deal with that later though. Right now, all you need to do is have a steady enough hand to hold plates and decanters." Ar-Alhana pushed him out of the tent, and even if Juri hadn't already had an idea what he'd meant, it was quickly very obvious when he shepherded him towards the largest tent in the camp next to Ar-Alhana's own. The smells emanating from it were unfairly good, and Juri's stomach growled.

Ar-Alhana, of course, only laughed as he pushed him towards the head of the low table in the middle of the tent, but it was far easier to ignore that than what had been going on before.

And, as if to trade one thing for another, far harder to ignore the looks he was getting, but the wine decanter someone shoved into his hands at least gave him something else to focus on.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dima takes a second important step, they escape, and then he prepares to take a third. Meanwhile, Juri wonders about Dima's (in)action over the Fortune, now that he knows that Juri has had it all this time.

The tent Dima was led to, guards both to each side of him and behind, was surprisingly well appointed. It had probably belonged to one of Ar-Alhana's soldiers instead of a new one made ready for a prisoner, but it hadn't been emptied out along with its former occupant. There was a thick carpet, to be sure not as decorated at the ones on the floor in Ar-Alhana's tent, but plush and not worn threadbare, and on top of it at one end, a bedroll that, again, definitely wouldn't have been in a regular prisoner's tent.

Apparently Ar-Alhana's respect for the wilder traits was as genuine as it could be, because he doubted the young man really cared about sucking up to someone who was in his power, no matter what traits they possessed or if they had something he might want. 

Eyes narrowing, Dima sat down on the edge of the bedroll, legs bent and crossed at the ankles, and let his hands dangle off his thighs as he turned the whole scene that'd just played out over in his head. Unless Ar-Alhana was a much better actor than Dima would peg him for, he didn't know what it was he'd pulled out of Juri's bag. 

Good. 

It would make it that much easier to recover it, and further far more easier to recover it than if it's still been in Shahnza Baki's hands. Dima couldn't quite believe it'd been in _Juri's bag_ this whole time. _Cookies_ , really. How foolish had he been to believe that? Perhaps if Juri's ears and tail hadn't been covered when he'd come up with that, he would've realized Juri hadn't been embarrassed, but alarmed at the possibility of Dima finding out he had one of the Thirteen Fortunes of Spring in one of his bags.

Not that it mattered currently; all that mattered was that the Fortune wasn't what Ar-Alhana wanted. What _that_ unfortunately meant was that what Ar-Alhana wanted, then, was something far more... personal.

As if thinking about him had summoned him, the tent flaps were pulled apart to allow Ar-Alhana to enter, a lazy swing to his step and tail both, dark eyes sharp as their gazes met. Ar-Alhana paused in the middle of the tent, just _watching_ for a couple seconds, and Dima returned the favour. He well-dressed, but it was clear the robes were for travelling and not leisure, so for as much as he was a fickle flame, he was not unused to doing real work. The long braid that dangled all the way down to his ass was a slight surprise, but only a little. It'd make Ar-Alhana far more attractive from the back than he was from the front, however.

Not that the Lord Ar-Alhana was ugly - far from - but his razor-thin temper was tiresome. Especially so when he had to endure it instead of putting the annoying lordling in his place, or at the least have the leave to ignore it from a position equal to him.

Ar-Alhana cocked his head and smiled until his fangs showed, and stalked forward so his polished claws touched the edge of the bedroll.

"Now, this is how it will go," Ar-Alhana said as he leaned in, the last few words practically caressing Dima's black-striped, white furred ear, "you behave, play along, use that big cock of yours to the best of your ability, and I _won't_ have the half-breed drawn and quartered right in front of you."

A beat, while a dark-skinned, long-fingered hand slid over Dima's broad shoulder, teasing along the fraying collar of his worn shirt to brush pale skin.

"Right after I've fucked him, which will happen regardless of if you play your part and do the same to me or not."

Dima kept staring straight ahead, didn't growl or hiss, but his eyes narrowed. "And you think I should care about this, why?"

Laughter, warm and rich, bloomed up around them, but Dima found he didn't much care for it. Or for Ar-Alhana in general, even with that shining length of dark-blond, braided hair now swinging over one shoulder. The sudden lash of claws down his collarbone was ice in the warmth of the desert afternoon.

"I'm not blind, and you would not like me to think you think I'm stupid. I don't care _how_ you care for him, but if you want that pretty redhead alive after tonight, you will play."

Closing his eyes, Dima gritted his teeth. Against the fury bubbling up; against the dark offence underneath it he didn't look closer at. Against the burning frustration that'd been festering in his gut since Juri had literally walked into the feli that levied his life against Dima's compliance. He shouldn't have given in, and he certainly shouldn't do so _now_. Dima opened his eyes again and glanced sideways, meeting eyes blacker than any sin he'd committed in his life so far, sparkling with false stars along with very real interest.

"All right." It wasn't what he wanted to say, especially after he'd already given in two days ago, but in case he could not get them out of here before Ar-Alhana decided he wanted his pound of flesh, it was, reluctantly, the better option. Dima watched the slender feli straighten with a smugly pleased expression of triumph on his face, turn smartly, the dark tip of the tail brushing his knee, and strut out of the tent. Suppressing the hiss that wanted to escape, Dima flexed his hands where they lay on his thighs, sliding them down a little further, and, with a flexing twitch of tendons, unsheathed his claws into his knees, just deep enough to bite.

He'd learned patience early and not the sort that came with waiting for an opportunity to ambush prey; it was the excruciating sort that came with politics, with war, with dealing with _beings_ and not animals in a hunt. He'd thought waiting for a chance to free himself when that human had managed to capture him, _so close_ to his goal, had been the worst of it, an insulting mistake that would take a grating amount of time to rectify and in the meantime leave him at the hands of someone who had all reason to abuse him far more than he did with his regular slaves.

This, somehow, was worse.

It shouldn't be, but in the wake of Ar-Alhana's visit, what popped up first wasn't plans to counter anything that might go wrong when he decided it was time to leave. No, instead it was the smile Juri had shot him when he'd been dragged off, dimmer than usual but encouraging, like _he_ was the one who needed the moral support. Like he was the one who was the most in danger, when Juri was such a soft target it'd be pleasing to some to hit it just to see that softness bruise. Not that he should care if some savage with lack of respect even for their own species thought a _half-breed_ looked attractive enough to use. 

He really shouldn't; he had more important things to worry about, bigger goals.

Claws digging into his knees again, Dima flexed his hands and slid them back out, the minute flashes of negligible pain not enough distraction for his current train of thought. He shouldn't, but 'shouldn't' was an ideal, and beyond the fact that Juri had helped him when he had no real reason to, and had probably had many more occasions to regret it since then, there was nothing objectionable about him.

_Nothing objectionable_. With a snort, Dima deliberately drove his claws into his knees again, deeper this time, then eased them out slowly, blinking away the vision of the smile he'd gotten earlier along with the flash of pain. It was honestly infuriating that a half-breed was a much more tolerable member of their species than some full-blooded ones could be. Juri didn't deserve _anything_ Lord Ar-Alhana would be visiting on him this evening, down to the most innocent of it. Hadn't deserved the treatment earlier, though he had to admit, to himself at the very least, because he wasn't in the business of lying to himself often, that he could easily have been in Al-Arhana's position given the right circumstances. And anyway, as he'd thought a few times before in relation to Juri, kind, good people ended up mistreated every day. He still didn't have to care, not when the whole reason he was here in Kurrata was, right now, in Ar-Alhana's tent.

He could focus on that and would get over anything else, if not tomorrow, then eventually. It would not be the worst he'd done, because he'd certainly had people die for him, because of him, at his hand and others, for many different reasons. 

So why should he care? 

Images of Juri playing his flute, the dance in Kushrrata, trying to _tease him_ and always coming back despite some frankly cruel backlash floated up in Dima's mind. Reality was unfortunately that he had come to care enough that it was no longer about conscience, it was about sentiment. Sentiment had made him drop the sword two days ago, sentiment had made him agree to Ar-Alhana's lurid little desire.

(Sentiment was certainly not what had made his cock briefly twitch at the image Ar-Alhana's words had conjured up, as shameful as that was, and he would ignore that part.) 

He'd passed acceptance of Juri as a person and a feli, half or not, and _come to care_ for the surprisingly agreeable temperament Juri displayed, not so much swallowing anger as letting it out in shorter bursts; care for the smiles, genuine as they were, even when the ease of them had been grating at first; care because, no matter how soft he seemed, Juri was surprisingly... resilient. Or maybe adaptable was the right word. He was soft, but he wasn't so very easy to actually break. He did what he wanted and tried to make it work; for someone of no real means and with no real personal power, that was as impressive as anything from someone of more recognizable achievements would be. 

Caring didn't mean he truly had to act to protect him, of course, but when Ar-Alhana had first put hand to Juri... It'd taken more effort than he'd like to admit to restrain himself. Far, far more effort, and the mere memory of it stirred the dark offence Ar-Alhana's words had brought up earlier. So no matter how easy (or hard) it'd be to refuse to do anything that'd just been demanded of him and simply take what he'd come to this cursed continent for and leave in the early morning, Dima found himself in the displeasing position of having to admit that, lately at least, travelling _with_ Juri had much less to do with pooling resources and knowledge than he kept telling himself.

It had so little to do with that it was rather shameful, and it certainly didn't have anything to do with the realization that Juri didn't just know of the treasures of the northern tribes, but knew them well enough to recognize one of the Thirteen Fortunes and act accordingly. He wouldn't have to try to infiltrate that worthless human garbage's holdings again, wouldn't have to plan for alternate ways of acquiring the Fortune, because _Juri had already done the work for him_.

No wonder they were being pursued, completely aside from wounded pride. 

It had nothing to do with any of that at all. So he sat there, tension in his nerves like a too-tightly strung harp, and waited. Later. It needed to be later, even if 'later' might be 'too late', for Juri at least. He had no way to know how soon Ar-Alhana would like his after-dinner entertainment, but if they had some manner of luck, dinner would draw long. It didn't matter, in the end. Getting out of here alive, _with_ the Fortune, was what mattered, regardless if that happened before or after Ar-Alhana got what _he_ wanted.

In the service of the goal of leaving with both of them alive, Dima sat as the hours grew longer, listening to the sounds coming from the honour tent, and hoped that included the lord of the tribe as well. If it did, the worst Juri might have to deal with was the indignity of serving the man his dinner. It would be... fortunate, if that was so. The image that thought brought up still made him wish to break fingers. Exhaling slowly, Dima rubbed his hands over his knees, frowning as he tried to judge how late it was. Still no one had come to fetch him, or Ar-Alhana dragging Juri in here, and for as much as he was used to patience, this was grating. 

Finally, he reached behind him and eased the little whistle tied to the underside at the base of his tail out of its spot, and turned it over between his fingers. He should honestly wait longer, to ensure the enchanted item would work. But drink made people as suggestible as being tired or already asleep did, so in the end it might be one and the same. 

Covered in carvings, the delicate little bone flute wasn't even as big around or long as his own pinky finger, polished smooth through the work that'd gone into enchanting it. Rubbing his thumb along it, Dima lifted it to his mouth and, a little awkwardly, held it between thumb and two fingers. The trilling, twitchy chirps that came out of it sounded almost like the actual northern nightingale the enchantment had been patterned on. The sound filled the tent, then expanded, taking the place of the air, sinking into any ear that would listen. Soft and quiet, it eased throughout the camp, and while the guards outside his tent were first to slump to the ground, Dima played it for several minutes straight, ensuring it'd reach as far as it could.

Tucking the whistle into his fraying hair tie, Dima stood up, dusted himself off, and walked out of the tent. The camp was silent around him, the wind the loudest thing to be heard as it shooed dancing veils of sand in front of it, covering the scattered bodies on the ground in a fine dusting and rustling the palms' leaves. 

Asleep, every single one of them. 

Smirking, Dima turned not towards the tent where Ar-Alhana had been holding court, but rather the one they'd been dragged to when they arrived. The enchanted bulb at the center of the tent, plus several smaller ones scattered around and attached to the central bulb by thin, fine chains, lit up as he entered.

Juri's things were still on the floor by the chair, just shuffled to the side of it, and the light caught buttery in the lacy ivory and underlying gold of the Fortune still laying on Ar-Alhana's chair. It didn't take long to repack everything, the egg-shaped treasure back at the bottom of the same pack Juri had hid it in, wrapped in the cloth. Slinging the bags over one shoulder, Dima forced himself to walk out of there. Running now wouldn't matter, would make nothing better or worse, so he first made himself take some detours for supplies and _then_ walked to the tent where Ar-Alhana had been entertaining for dinner, since Juri had been nowhere in the other tent. He couldn't decide whether that was reassuring or infuriating, that Juri _had_ been made to serve for dinner.

The dinner tent was littered with sleeping bodies, with some of them having fallen over into their food. Unfortunately, Ar-Alhana had escaped that particular indignity, though he had a wet lapful of wine that'd be a large, dark stain to be dealt with in the morning. Juri lay curled up behind Ar-Alhana's chair, twisted sideways and with his knees bent up under him, curls loose like a halo around him and only enough pulled back and pinned with a comb to keep his hair out of his eyes. There was a pinched frown on his face Dima didn't recognize, because it didn't just look unhappy, which would be understandable enough on its own, but he seemed to be unhurt aside from the awkward position, so Dima set it aside as a non-concern.

Unhurt, and... well.

Squatting down beside Juri, Dima rolled him over, which earned him an uncoordinated, molasses-slow whack from a sleep-limp hand and the curved tip of Juri's nose scrunching up, then relaxing again. Apparently even enchanted sleep couldn't suppress Juri's discomfort with the situation. Dima wondered if it was because he'd been forced to spend the last few hours serving the mercurial lord dinner, with the not-so-implicit threat of serving something _else_ later, or if it was because of what he was wearing.

He had to give Ar-Alhana one thing; he knew how to dress his acquisitions. This outfit would have been far more fitting for Juri's dance in Kushrrata... though on the other hand, the humans in the audience wouldn't have deserved to see Juri dance dressed like this. Pushing away the images this line of thought was painting for his inner eye, Dima shook his head sharply. Surely this must have partially been something else before it came to serve as Juri's new clothing, because he doubted a travelling party like this normally carried clothes with them clearly not fit for outside desert life, just meant to be pleasing to the eye. 

Rich twilight blue and sun-gold, the fabric was whisper-thin and soft like silk, _just_ opaque enough to not really obscure anything interesting but still give just the faintest suggestion of privacy. The result was more enticing than respectful. It clung lovingly to the skin it was wrapped around, contrasting against the soft richness of Juri's brown skin. The scoop-shaped collar of the short, sleeveless vest skimmed the underside of Juri's collarbones, cradling them, almost, and doing an admirable job of emphasizing the surprising width of his shoulders. It was easy to forget that just because Juri was short, didn't mean he was built particularly willowy. The vest also happened to be short enough to reveal Juri had a navel piercing, and Dima paused as he spotted it, eyebrows rising up. It wasn't new, either, so not something Ar-Alhana had decided to decorate him with.

He hadn't expected to see _that_.

One of his hands twitched, but he didn't reach out to touch. The pants, if they could be called such considering the wide slashes that bared the outsides of Juri's legs and were collected in a pooling gather around his ankles, didn't just lovingly cradle his cock, but also emphasized the patch of fur he had on each hip, the trail of the same down the sides of his thighs until the fur reached his knees, where they finally covered the whole of his legs. It should've looked grotesque as he'd thought when he first got a better idea of how little Juri's fur covered, or at the very least ridiculous.

Somehow, it did not.

Narrowing his eyes, Dima flicked a glance to Juri's arms, and at least the fur on his lower arms didn't look any less than exactly as ridiculous as it usually did. It was, almost, reassuring. Almost, but like he'd thought in Kushrrata, Juri wouldn't be _himself_ without these, and he looked... more than attractive, even with them. Juri was exactly as he was meant to be, ridiculous bits and all. It suited him as much as his personality did.

It was however not reassuring to think Ar-Alhana dressing Juri like this, because no matter what Juri probably thought that it was to make fun of him, the whole effect was anything but ridiculous. It made a good show of emphasizing the right things to advantage - Juri's legs were long and shapely, after all, and the contrast between the open fabric and the trail of fur only showed this fact off instead of attention being stuck on any of the patchy spots of fur. Pressing his lips together, Dima picked Juri up, displeased with himself.

One thing to consider a half-breed an acceptable companion and a credit _despite_ being a half-breed. One thing, even, to perhaps find him even somewhat attractive, _in spite_ of the too-human-shaped feet, the patchy fur. Another thing entirely to see at least one of those things as attractive in and of themselves. Further another to be aroused by him, exactly as he was. The hot, embarrassed huff was yanked out of him and Dima shifted on his feet, trying to relieve the sudden pressure in his pants. 

Fine. So he was attracted to the... to Juri. That didn't have to mean anything. He didn't _need to do anything about it_. Parts of him wanted to do something about it, though. Wanted very much to, and he knew it. He would... ignore that, for now. He could do nothing about it right now anyway.

Despite his annoyance and the urge to toss Juri over his shoulder, Dima carried him on one arm, partially held in the crook of his elbow as he stormed out of the tent, over to where the horses were held. It didn't take long to wake one of the fine, powerful animals up, the enchantment focused on other _beings_ and not animals, find saddle and tack and, after settling Juri in front, sitting down with him leaned against his chest. Hand tight on the reins, Dima looked down despite himself, and cursed. A riot of curls framed the curving, soft-angled face, spilling over his chest and arm, Juri's ears at a relaxed, easy angle that helped frame his face. His lashes might not be very long, but they were thick, and the generous curve of his lips was soft.

"Knowledge I did _not_ need, and definitely not right now," Dima grumbled and urged the horse into trotting, the sand turning the beat of its hooves into muffled thumps, disturbing nothing of the enchanted sleep that covered the camp. It was peaceful. Not that travelling with Juri had been aggravating on its own aside from when he'd let his own preconceived notions make it aggravating; Juri was a perfectly agreeable travelling companion, he just hadn't thought he _should have to_ travel with him.

And to be fair, he hadn't needed to, not even from the beginning. 

The collar and cuffs marked him, but they could be worked around, if he'd chosen to split from Juri the moment they were out of the fort and go back in search of what he'd risked being captured for. Looking down at the slack face where it was mashed against his chest and bouncing slightly with the horse's every movement, Dima grinned wryly despite the renewed throb from his nethers at the sight. If he'd chosen to go back to find the Fortune, he'd have found himself as frustrated as Baki had undoubtedly felt, and probably was still, when he found out the Fortune had been stolen. It was... ah, _fortunate_ he'd decided it might behoove him to retreat and plan his approach better, in a more secure location, and thus go with Juri instead of leaving him to disappear out into the storm alone.

There were curls sliding against Juri's dark skin. They further softened the sloping oval of his face, casting shadows that made it hard, now that his face was still and slack, to ignore how attractive he actually was. Grunting, Dima looked away, adjusting the horse's path slightly, and then, in a fit of admittedly thoroughly childish pique he would normally not lower himself to, pinched the inside of one of Juri's elbows. 

Juri did not wake up. Instead he twitched, his arm jerking in an aimless attempt at whacking what pinched him, his tail echoing the attempt by smacking against Dima's leg. Sighing, Dima rubbed the spot he'd pinched, and felt very ridiculous. Blaming Juri for being likeable and, admittedly, attractive, was beneath him. Besides, Juri had helped him do what he'd come here for, though he wondered _why_ , and what Juri planned to do with it. He'd ask, before he took it. 

It took hours before Juri woke up, hours through which he kept the horse alternately walking, then trotting for long stretches of time, and interspersed with only short bursts of actual gallop. It was during one of those, dawn threatening to heat up the desert again, that Juri stirred with a groan. Slowing the horse to a trot again, Dima looked down and pre-emptively tightened his arm around Juri's waist.

"Don't fight, or you'll fall off."

The claws threatening to tear into his arms slid away as Juri frowned, shook his head, and his half-asleep brain woke up enough to recognize the situation, and Dima's voice.

"Dima? You---" Juri paused, shifting into a more upright position, and Dima shifted his grip to let him do so. "You _escaped_? How?"

There was a beat, but he didn't get to do much more than open his mouth before a dubious, wide-eyed look was thrown at him over Juri's shoulder. 

"You took me _with you_?"

He couldn't even bring himself to be offended. Juri had plenty of reasons to think he would not go through the trouble of fetching him, especially when he had no idea how easy it'd been.

"I'll pretend you're your usual generous self and didn't say that, since I know you probably say only half the things you think about me, but yes." 

Smiling sharply, too worn by the long night to really control his urge, he reached out and gave a firm tug to a handful of red curls. He ignored the muffled yelp and the accusing scowl he got for mistreating Juri's hair, but it also made Juri relax, as if it was reinforcing or revealing that the changes that'd been happening after Kushrrata were not about to go away. It was... surprisingly satisfying. 

"You would have to be far more unlikeable if I were to have been tempted to leave you behind, especially when I used an enchanted whistle and simply had the whole camp fall asleep. It was not particularly strenuous to include you in the escape."

He really should make an effort to control himself better. To not touch, for as much as he'd been failing to follow that in the last couple of weeks. Dima wasn't sure whether he should blame his errant attraction or the general, nebulous _sentiment_ that had folded Juri into some sort of concept of _important enough_ to let close. Close enough to touch. Not many actually tolerated this part, but Juri, even when he was probably uncertain why the change was happening at all, what the reason might be, had taken it in stride. It made things even harder, Dima had to admit.

The tip of Juri's tail was twitching against his shin, repeated little flicks that finally disappeared when Juri yanked his tail away from his leg, and Dima found himself almost sorry Juri had noticed. That was another thing he should not want, or wish to indulge in, and yet...

"... Thank you." Juri looked back at him again, and despite the lingering disbelief on his face and in his voice, the smile was as brilliant and easy as any he'd seen on Juri's face. Perhaps more so, since he had hardly had much occasion to (or, really, cared to) be the target of many of Juri's smiles. He _had_ thought them annoying at first, after all, and done his absolute best to try and give Juri as few reasons to smile around him as possible, having assumed they were meant to placate and wheedle, to make sure Juri got himself into other people's good graces.

But no, there was nothing calculated there, except, apparently, for when he wanted to try and make others feel better in a tight situation. Swallowing a sigh, he shook his head slightly. What was he going to do with all this? Resolutely, Dima pushed it aside for now.

"Could we... stop, though? I want to change." 

Dima looked down, but despite the plaintive tone, Juri wasn't looking at him, but rather at himself. His ears were at an uncertain half-backwards angle as he pulled at the vest, then made a half-hearted attempt to pull the slits of the pants closed, sighed, and gave up. If his skin was paler, Dima was sure he'd be seeing the blush that most certainly was on Juri's face. Even if Dima might have been inclined to take a moment to stop and let Juri undress, at this point he could admit that he would rather keep him in that outfit at least a _little_ longer.

"Later. I want as much time and distance between us and the great and fearsome Ar-Alhana as possible before it's noon. Then we'll rest a couple hours before continuing, and you can change then."

Juri sighed loudly again, ears and shoulders both slumping, but didn't protest otherwise, though he looked back after a beat anyway.

"Did you at least take two of those robes with you, too?"

Staring, Dima could feel his eyebrows knit up before he caught himself and smoothed his forehead out again, silently cursing himself. Ah. That was what he'd forgotten in his haste to get the Fortune, Juri's things, and Juri himself. He'd taken food and water, but that was it. He shrugged, flicking his tail dismissively.

"It was you or the robes," he said, which wasn't true at all, and found himself pulled into the tiniest grin when Juri snorted after a beat of silence. It was... surprisingly satisfying, to tease back, he'd found. It wasn't something he'd ever had much cause to indulge in before - no one would have thought to engage him like that, but Juri... didn't know that. He was just doing what he usually did.

"Oh, so _that's_ how it is. I suppose I'm glad I'm worth more than extra protection!" Juri's laugh was soft but strengthened when no exasperation or judgement came, and he found himself enjoying the sound of it. "Not sure the blankets we've got will be useful outside of shelter when we're resting, though..." Juri's smile slid sideways into a frown, and Dima arched an eyebrow.

"The blankets?"

"That'd be _something_ to help cover you, wouldn't it? You're going to be a lobster before we get out of the desert, we're days deeper into it than we were planning to be." It was half a challenge, half genuine worry, and Dima huffed, reached out, hand grasping Juri's chin to turn him face forward. Indulgent. He was actually surprised Juri didn't pull away, though he did shake his head as soon as he _was_ looking straight ahead again and Dima had let go. That Juri still was as open with his feelings and comments to him was really another commendation for his patience (or stubbornness, perhaps), since Dima had certainly not earned much of any friendliness since they met.

He wasn't sure if he resented it, or was embarrassingly grateful for the chance it might give him, should he choose to take it.

"Look out for things that might be caches or an oasis instead of worrying about things we can do nothing about."

Because there _was_ nothing to do about his potential sunburn. Far more important was that the water he had taken would last, and that they took any chance to find more until they were in more hospitable surroundings. They didn't have any luck for that when they stopped around noon, once again arranging an awkward half-tent by using the horse and themselves after Juri had dressed. Juri's plan for his unwanted outfit was clearly to leave the colourful scraps of clothing in the sand while he pulled the golden comb from his hair and stared at it, somewhere between consternation and reluctance to keep it, and Dima bent down and fished them back up, holding them out.

"Put them in the bags, at least until we're a few days from here. Sand might bury them fast, but I'm not going to risk it. The comb can be sold if you don't want to keep it."

Juri looked like he was going to protest, and in the full glare of the noonday sun, Dima caught the ruddy tint that was as much of a tell of Juri blushing as one could get, before he grimaced and snatched the things up and stuffed all of it in one of the bags.

"Fine." The glare he gave the bag was far more vicious than any he'd seen Juri level at a real, live person so far, and a few, rumbling chuckles escaped before he could stop himself. Juri looked up with a wide-eyed expression that turned into a reluctant smile, and he decided he didn't mind the slip.

It took them far longer to get out of the desert than it had to get into it, but aside from being taken off-course by Ar-Alhana's party, they needed to make sure they avoided the fort they'd been intending to circumvent, completely aside from trying to lose their tail. Several days - and luckily several caches - later, they found a tiny oasis thanks to the horse. The pool wasn't deeper than to their knees and not larger than two steps wide, the ground around it swampy and soft, the shy greenery a shock against the golden sand. It was as good a place as any to rest for the hours around noon, and, since there was another cache, Dima had absolutely no compunction about raiding it.

"Take what we can use from this while I set things up. You might have to repack a couple things by now," Dima said with a considering frown, catching a look from Juri he'd gotten more than once the last couple days, every time they found a cache. He ignored it and went about making some sort of shelter while the horse nibbled on the desert greenery around the little pool. Juri, Dima saw out of the corner of his eye, was looking more and more consternated while he moved things around with the contents of the cache spread around him; an extra blanket and a couple lengths of cloth they could use to cover their heads, dry goods for food, an extra satchel to carry it in. It was when Juri touched that that he paused.

"You sure you don't want this?" he said it quietly, and Dima didn't look up from trying to make sure the half-tent shelter was anchored right.

"What?"

"... You don't want a bag for yourself?" Juri cocked his head as he looked up, one ear turned towards him, tail restless and then forced still.

"For what?" Dima could take a guess, actually, but he asked it with dismissive nonchalance, finally sitting down in the bare shade offered by the shelter, hands dangling down between his thighs. Closed his eyes against the stare Juri gave him that said he knew Dima was messing with him, but finally sighed.

"For the Fortune."

No pretence made as to Dima not knowing what it was, to _Juri_ not knowing what it was. If nothing else, Juri was certainly not stupid.

"You were the one who stole it," Dima said with a shrug, "I figure you should be the one to carry it."

_For now_ hung in the air between them, like writing in fire, and Juri opened his mouth... closed it, with a shake of his head.

"If you say so."

He didn't believe him, and well he shouldn't, but there was no reason for Dima to take custody of the enchanted treasure yet. He could afford to wait, as long as he knew exactly where it was, as long as he would be travelling with it until they were back on more safer land, closer to home. _Then_ he could take it, and hopefully, for Juri's sake, he would _let him_ do so. Opening his eyes again, Dima watched Juri settle next to him under the shelter, hesitating over his flute case.

"Do you think it'd be fine if I played?" Juri looked up at him, and it wasn't a question of if he would be okay with him playing, but rather if he thought _anyone would hear_. He shook his head.

"Go ahead." Dima watched the easy, relaxed movements as Juri took out the flute, and contemplated what Juri had said to Ar-Alhana when he'd found the egg-shaped object. _It doesn't belong to the noble who had it_. True. Very, very true, and he _could_ see that be the full reasoning for why Juri had stolen it, with what he'd seen of Juri so far, but he wasn't willing to leave it unexamined.

"What do you imagine you are going to do with it?" Dima asked after Juri had run through his practice scales, warming his fingers up, and mismatched eyes, nearly glowing in the shadow cast by their little blanket shelter, met his.

"... Not sure. I just knew I couldn't leave it there, even if he didn't know what it was."

Humming, Dima closed his eyes again and listened to the trilling tune of Juri's flute when he started playing again, swinging up into the burning noon sky.

Not sure? That might even be true. He'd leave it, for now. What he probably couldn't leave was, as little as he liked it, some sort of apology. Juri deserved one, no matter what Dima decided to do, or what might happen from it. He didn't have to like it - in fact, he most certainly did _not_ like it, but with what Juri had put up with from him, he deserved an apology at the very least.

Cracking his eyes open a shade, Dima watched Juri from behind his lashes, his outline soft and haloed by the muted light coming in through the blanket, red hair looking nearly like blood out of direct light. It suited him. Juri was as soft as the diffuse light made him out to be.

He didn't need to do more than apologize. He didn't like having to admit, either to himself or to Juri, that he'd been wrong treating him as he had, that he'd let his prejudice interpret practically everything Juri was and had done, at least at the start, in the worst light. He didn't have to like it to _do it_ , and he would have to because what he _wanted_ , a thought that crawled up unbidden but undeniable, was more of those smiles. Not the easy, everyday ones - the ones Juri bestowed on anything and everyone given half a chance because he was genuinely friendly and cheery - but the ones that came because he'd done something to earn it. What he _wanted_ was to bury his hands in those curls.

What he wanted, Dima had to face, turning towards the thought like a man turning to face the jaws of a beast he'd been thrown into a pit to face, unarmed and helpless, was Juri.

So, having admitted that to himself and, as he listened to Juri play, trying to figure out how he wanted to admit it to _Juri_ , Dima collected food and water, handing it over after Juri was done playing and let them both finish eating before he straightened up. Looked at Juri sideways and had to still his tail firmly. He could be a coward and wait until tomorrow. Though if he did that, there might be more excuses to wait, and keep waiting. Juri deserved that as little as he'd deserved the way he'd treated him for a great part of this journey.

"Juri."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dima apologizes, they get out of the desert and into some hot springs, and the cookies become relevant to further interpersonal development.

"Yeah?"

Juri looked up, starting to actually relax now that they were days away from Ar-Alhana and seemed to be getting away with it, and, also, melting in the oppressive heat. He almost made a comment about how Dima had said before they shouldn't talk so much, and that they'd surely used up all their words for the day. As soon as he met Dima's gaze, spotting the weight in it, any ideas at all of being teasing dried up and Juri rather regretted the off-hand acknowledgement. Not because Dima seemed to be resenting it, for he wasn't. It was just, he looked so very serious and Juri was hard pressed not to look around to find they'd been found, contrary to his relief just before.

"I..." Dima grunted, looking away, ears turning down and then immediately brought back around into a more neutral position again. His shoulders were stiff, and his spine just as much so, despite that he had to sit hunched under their cover. Watching him, Juri remained silent, though leaned forward a little, and had to curl his tail around his legs to resist the urge to touch it to the nearest of Dima's knees.

He wanted to say something, but the thickening air around them and Dima's expression convinced him it was better to be silent and wait. Whatever this was about, it was _important_ ; prickles of charged tension made the tips of his ears itch.

"I need to apologize," Dima said, flat and sharp, and the whole thing seemed as much an attack as the words were meant to be the exact opposite of that.

An apology? For _what_? 

Juri stared, probably for longer than he should have when Dima was so tense, his eyes as flat as his tone of voice, and a tremble went through his tail. It almost looked like it'd have been bristling, if Dima would have let it. Juri still didn't understand how he had so much control over himself, it was honestly rather scary. Swallowing, mouth dry for far different reasons than the merciless heat squeezing them into tinder, Juri nodded found himself leaning forward again.

"Uh--- Yeah?" Shaking his head sharply, Juri tugged on the braid he'd forced his hair into the last couple days, smiling apologetically. "Sorry, that was probably unhelpful. For what?"

Dima didn't so much sigh as let out an explosive exhalation that left him slumped, if only very briefly, and his face twisted into dark frustration before he twisted around so he was facing Juri instead of turned away from him. All the air in Juri's lungs disappeared when he was faced with the full impact of the pinched and resolute expression on that pale (if pink and peeling, in a couple places), sharp-featured face.

"For _me_ ," Dima ground out like he was facing execution - or just having to admit something he didn't want to admit, because being wrong was, of course, the most terrible sentence the world could mete out. Not that Juri couldn't understand the sentiment, and he wasn't sure if Dima wasn't admitting being wrong more gracefully than he ever had. If he even _was_ wrong; Juri still had no idea what this was about, and was actively trying to avoid making assumptions, if only because he would rather not be disappointed.

Not when Dima was taking this so seriously, not when even the vague possibility of what-he-wasn't-thinking-about felt not like vindication, but rather being gifted something unexpected. Even if it _might_ be something he should've been given from the start. So Juri said nothing, just nodded, tilting his head and keeping one ear firmly turned forward, towards Dima, while the other twitched with both uncertainty and tension.

It was Dima's turn to stare, his vivid eyes dark and inscrutable, his mouth a thin, flat line before he slowly shook his head. Juri tried not to squirm. Dima didn't look away this time; was, in fact, rather pointedly meeting Juri's green-and-gold eyes after briefly closing his own.

"I have been treating you in ways you don't deserve from the start, because of your heritage and where you come from. Have made uncharitable assumptions on how you act because they grated on me, simply because it made it even simpler for me to continue to see you in the worst light possible." 

Again, this was supposed to be the opposite of an attack, but every single word was cutting. The force of said cuts were just turned inwards, not outwards against _Juri_ , though Dima's solidified grimness as he spoke, reluctant and merciless in one, was a little dizzying to be faced with. Juri opened his mouth, then snapped it closed so quickly and sharply his teeth clacked, fangs catching against each other, when Dima slashed a hand in the air, ears briefly pinning back and the blue of his eyes turning frigid instead of weighted.

Right. No speaking yet. 

He could respect that, no matter how much Juri already rather wanted to... if not hurry this part up, then at least assure Dima the funereal sternness wasn't really necessary. Yes, this was what he'd wanted to hear. Yes, it made him feel infinitely better, some knot in his gut that'd lingered without him noticing unravelling, but far more so because Dima had already been changing, for weeks now. It made the words mean more than if they had been said alone, come before the changing behaviour.

"I'm sorry for that, and it will change," Dima finished, voice soft now as he looked away, warmth stealing back into the charged tension under their blanket shelter and Juri closed his eyes and just breathed for a moment or two, lungs straining for air he'd apparently forgotten he needed. Or maybe it just hadn't been possible to breathe while Dima took a sledgehammer and shattered a wall he'd put there himself with the single-minded intent of not having to do this again while determined to do it right.

He'd been right; it did feel like a gift, even if what he was being given _was_ something he should've had from the start. But how many changed their opinions and their behaviour, even less also apologized for them? It was the combination that felt like a gift he wouldn't have expected, even if he'd kept hoping Dima would just... be a little less unpleasant, if only to make the journey more easier to deal with. This, and the changes the last few weeks? It was more than he'd been hoping for.

"I know it will change," Juri said, licked dry lips even when it felt like the air stole all the moisture from his tongue before it did any good to his lips, and smiled despite the pull on them, "'cause you already _have_."

There was a terrible urge to lean forward and do something he shouldn't, so Juri looked away, squinting out over the blinding glare of sunlight on sand. Couldn't exactly stop himself from smiling either way.

"But that just makes it clear you're serious," Juri continued quietly, soft with things he didn't want to admit to because it wasn't like he necessarily had a chance for anything more than exactly this just because Dima had apologized, had been serious about the changes. That they weren't _just_ to make things easier on both of them, but because he was both relaxing _and_ being better. Glancing back to Dima from the corner of his eyes, Juri's smile widened as he watched the tension leave those broad shoulders, the awkward stiffness in Dima's ears melt away for a more natural angle, and his mouth go from painfully flat to showing that his lips did, in fact, have natural curve. 

For a moment, there was something even softer on Dima's face, his blue eyes bright under the shade cast by their cover, the beginnings of a smile on his lips... then their eyes met, past the protection of the few stray curls that framed Juri's forehead and spilled around his face, refusing to be constrained by the braid. He couldn't move, or breathe, though his muscles coiled with tension as Dima's expression froze, darkened into something that might, had he been someone else, had the situation been different, been hunger.

Then it was gone, and both of them looked away.

Juri had no idea if Dima's face was redder than just from the sun, but he knew _he_ was hotter than just from the heat in the air and radiating from the sand, so he stared at the oasis until the burn in his gut and face went away.

"I can keep watch," Juri said before Dima had the chance to, probably, offer the same thing, "since you keep insisting on riding as late into the night as you do."

And Dima would never be sleeping on the horse. Not that _he'd_ intended to do the same, not after that first, unwilling occasion, but Dima was driving them harder through the desert than he had at any point before. Probably just as well, honestly. They certainly didn't want to repeat the situation with Ar-Alhana, or worse, have any of his people catch up to them!

"... All right," Dima murmured, and, surprisingly, laid down and closed his eyes.

If he actually ended up sleeping, Juri couldn't swear on, but at least he pretended to, and thus Juri did his very best to actually try to keep watch and not stare at the soft, relaxed expression on Dima's face. Or at the faint shadows cast by his long lashes, or the long, flyaway strands that framed his face, curled nearly lovingly over the high, sharp angles of his cheekbones and the jut of his jaw.

... Right. No staring.

Resolutely, Juri turned so he sat with his back to Dima and stared out at the desert instead. Hopefully, they'd get out of it soon, less because of the question of resources and more because he wanted some proof they were _getting somewhere_. Everything looked the same, and he'd caught himself wondering if they were just passing through the same spot of desert over and over again somehow. 

This whole thing had lasted for much longer than Juri had ever planned for his stay in Kurrata to last. Barely two months back and forth, back home in time for late summer, that'd been his plan. Now, they were still weeks away from Kurrata's coast, weeks away from any ability to safely find other feli. Maybe that didn't matter so much now, because if nothing else Juri wouldn't expect hellish fury to be unleashed on him for daring to be in Dima's proximity when things, ah... _heated up_.

On the other hand, he just quietly hoped he would not make a fool of himself, if stupid, hopeful emotions got the better of his brain when his inhibitions were lowered.

He didn't think they would, but... there was always a chance.

Nothing he could do anything about at the moment though, so Juri pushed that aside and sat watch until Dima woke up around two hours later and they set off again. Maybe there was less tension in Dima's back as he leaned against it, arms wrapped around his waist to keep himself on the horse's back, or maybe there was more, but whatever the reason was, Juri could at least be sure Dima wasn't resenting him touching him at all.

Late next evening, not having stopped for the night yet, the dunes smoothed out into a salt flat, the rising moon shimmering over the white. In the distance was the dirty reddish edge of rockier ground; the end of the desert.

"That's a relief! It was starting to feel like we were running in place." Juri huffed and slumped against Dima's back, then quickly straightened at what wasn't so much a twitch as a convulsion of the muscles where he'd rested his forehead. 

He needed to be more careful, and not just... do things like this, just because Dima had apologized. Juri was then very aware of his hands splayed out over Dima's stomach, and tried very hard _not_ to think about that. Forget having issues in, what, a week? He was having trouble _now_ , far worse than when things had changed after Kushrrata.

"I'm sure the felin who live here would be able to tell us you're wrong, but," Dima said quietly, his soft rumble barely heard over the rhythmic thumping of the horse's hooves over the ground, the sound of it settling at the base of Juri's spine, right where his tail began, "I admit I was having some concerns as well."

Some concerns. Juri grinned and shook his head, blowing a curl out of his eyes that'd finally dried after the sun went down. Heat was still radiating from the salt flat, but the air was already cool, and it was a boon. Though, there was even less obvious places out on this flat to stop, and Juri frowned as he looked around. He could taste salt already.

"Are we stopping here? Doesn't seem to be any good places for it."

"No. Not unless we have to. The rocks would make better shelter."

Juri felt he should protest, because Dima was the one who was riding in front and thus, repeatedly since they'd escaped Ar-Alhana, had stayed awake for far longer than he probably should. Another glance around and Juri reluctantly admitted Dima was right. 

With a sigh, he settled in for what would probably be most of the rest of the night. At least his ass and thighs had stopped protesting this treatment a day or two ago. Apparently not even the muscles he'd built from dancing saved him while sitting on a horse for extended stretches of time every day. He wondered if this was familiar to Dima, or he was just, as usual, very good at hiding any discomfort or any general emotion he didn't want to show. A glance down at the strong thigh clutching the side of the horse and Juri decided it was probably the former, looking away again with a silent curse.

The landscape offered little of interest or attention, and soon Juri was lulled into sleep by the uniformity of the ride and their surroundings, despite his determination not to.

"Juri. Wake up."

A shrug startled Juri awake and he would've fallen straight off their horse if there wasn't a large, warm hand clamped around both of his wrists, though it disappeared immediately when he was clearly awake, swallowing an embarrassing noise that would have been a drawled mrow if he'd let it happen at all. Which he didn't.

"Wh--- Oh."

Hoofbeats clattered on rock and echoed back towards them as the horse walked down an invisible path between twisting rock formations. Foul smelling steam wafted along the ground, rising in pillars in a couple spots and revealing tiny spouts of mud or water among the rocks. False dawn had turned the sky steely.

"We should---"

"Stop," Juri said, interrupting Dima and graced with a silence that probably held an offended scowl for being interrupted, "you need a few hours, at least."

The sigh, the only answer he got as Dima halted the horse and let him slide off, was long suffering. At least he hadn't protested! 

Juri dutifully woke Dima up late mid-morning, and they walked alongside the horse, letting it rest while still keeping them moving. It was only slightly cooler here, but there was a breeze, soft against their faces, and the shadows the rocks cast helped. It was, overall, definitely a more pleasant area to be walking through, even if the sky had been something else in the desert. 

Maybe they also would've gotten much further that day if, while trying to find their way past a rocky scree dominating one side of the hilly valley they were following, they hadn't topped the ridge and found several larger pools spread out on a couple terraces that marked the way down to the opposite end of the valley. The pools were still, the water brightly turquoise and a little pearly, and while steam gathered over the surface, they weren't _boiling_. The air around them smelled clean but sharp, tickling his nose a little, and Juri whipped his head around to stare at Dima.

"We're stopping for today."

Not a question, not a plea, and Dima glanced from Juri to the pools and back to Juri, then tilted his head in slow, regal assent. Even Dima couldn't hide the way his ears had perked forwards, or the way his tail had turned rather jaunty.

"I suppose we could take the time for a longer stop, since we're out of the desert now. We have to make sure they're safe, though," Dima said, the added warning halting Juri's eager descent. Groaning, Juri threw an exasperated stare over his shoulder before he continued down into the flat, shallow bowl that contained one of the largest pools. Late afternoon made the pale stone around the pool shimmer in pale yellows and oranges. It was tempting to test the temperature by sticking his toes or fingers in, but Dima was, however much of a killjoy, also correct. If the water was hotter than it looked, he could seriously burn himself like that. Juri's solution was to take off the wrap he was still wearing, dipping the end of it into the water, and cautiously touch _that_.

"Feels okay near the edge at lea--- Dima?" Juri's bright, pleased smile turned quizzical as he stared up towards the top, where Dima was still standing with the horse, just... staring down at him. He glanced around, and then down at himself, but saw nothing unusual. When he looked up again, Dima was making his way down as if he hadn't been staring a couple seconds earlier, stock still and haloed by the sunlight.

Dima rudely left him to try and find some place to secure the horse, hopefully with something it could eat, while he left to find them dinner for later. Muttering something non-complimentary about Dima to their mount as they wandered around the area, Juri finally found a spot with a thorny-but-leafy bush and some scraggly grass in a protected corner on the opposite end of the little terrace. Not the most generous meal, but it was something.

Though, when Dima came back with a rabbit, Juri stared at it as he laid it down near the prepared fireplace, and then shook his head.

"Later," he proclaimed and turned around, pulling his shirt and pants off, motions quick and determined, but turned away the whole time. He did not need to see any reflexive looks of disgust. He wouldn't even begrudge Dima any such thing, because that was entirely different from just treating him like a person. You liked what you liked. Didn't mean he wanted to see how much he _wasn't_ that.

"Juri..." Dima might have sounded a little... strangled, maybe, but Juri shook his head and dashed over the rocks, only slowing down enough to carefully step into the water. Hot, but not uncomfortably so, and by the point he was up to his waist, it hadn't gotten any hotter, so the pool should be safe in its entirety. Turning around, he slapped the water, the warmth of it already soaking up into his bones and making it easy to smile.

" _Come on_! We can eat later!"

Wasn't like it wouldn't have been comparatively early to prepare the rabbit immediately, anyway. That was Juri's defence and he was prepared to use it. He didn't have to, as Dima shook his head and twisted to the side in the same motion he pulled his shirt off. He should've turned around when Dima did, but now Juri was stuck, staring at the ripple of muscle as the shirt was pulled off, then dropped to the ground. The nearly black stripes shifted with every movement, so very (un)helpfully emphasizing the muscle underneath. Especially so when Dima bent over, tail high above him, and got out of his pants.

Realizing what was about to happen, Juri fought against the fist squeezing his muscles and promptly dunked himself, drowning the drawled and very alarmed mrrp that escaped with the water.

That was close.

He didn't need to embarrass himself any more than he just potentially had. Pushing off from the bottom, Juri took a few seconds to just float in the warm water, moving about him with a comforting weight. It was silent under the surface, the pool lacking any fish or other inhabitants, and with no one but them and the horse nearby.

Pushing himself up like a feli-shaped geyser, Juri grinned up at the flat stare he was met with, Dima partway into the pool by now, and swept wet curls away from his face, though he quickly avoided Dima's stare, which he could feel even when he turned away.

" _Really_ glad we found this," he said just to fill the silence, and then his smile turned more tilted, "the horse wasn't the only thing that was smelling lately, I think."

"Are you talking about yourself?" Dima's response was as mild as his voice, the hesitation before answering a lot shorter than any of his previous responses that'd actually answered the teasing in the spirit it was given, and Juri laughed, turning away to swim across the deepest part of the pool. 

Mostly to just have an excuse to move further away from Dima and the way the water framed him, steam curling around his arms and shoulders. He felt so much better, but at the same time this bath was making several other things so much worse. Twisting around in the middle of the pool without thinking about it, Juri again found himself meeting Dima's gaze across the water, as he had, apparently, been staring. There was no disgust in that look, at least, but Juri could not decipher the intense, narrow expression and was rather relieved when it was Dima's turn to dip under the water, breaking it.

The air was heavy with steam as he sucked in a shuddering breath, but it felt even heavier than the steam should make it. He watched Dima's progress underwater from the ripple of disturbance, and when he broke it, Juri knew he'd have to leave the water _after_ Dima did. With the low sunlight setting the deep turquoise water to sparkling and warming the air and steam to a glow, Dima looked like he was shimmering, as pale as he was.

At least he didn't need to come up with an excuse to stay longer than Dima, because after he'd brushed his wet hair away from his face, Dima turned around and left the pool. It was like some weight that'd been pressing down on Juri popped as soon as he heard the last splash of Dima's retreating footsteps. He'd turned around again, just to hopefully avoid being too obvious. He knew he'd failed to not stare, but at least Dima had been staring _too_ , whatever the reason was. He could always hope it wasn't for any feelings of disgust, but that hope seemed too optimistic, and while Juri was now rather certain the ease that'd been settling since they left Kushrrata would last if Dima knew what he felt, that didn't mean he'd want to deal with rejection. Or deal with what his body was feeling, too, the whole thing sitting like a burning lump in his throat, a glowing coal of want in his gut.

Embarrassing. What was it he'd said, he wouldn't like someone who would rather not look at him? Not that Dima seemed so unwilling to touch or look at him anymore, but sincere acceptance and Dima considering him with respect and actually liking his personality had less than nothing to do with actually wanting to, say, kiss him. Or do more than that. 

Suppressing a sigh, Juri dropped back to float on his back now that he could do so safely, staring up at the darkening sky while he tried not to listen to Dima rustling around up on the bank behind him. Tried not to think about the knife-edge angles of Dima's jaw and chin, the curve of muscle in his chest and arms... wet fur and skin pearly with water, sparkling in the light, drops rolling down over Dima's chest and stomach, curls of steam softening his outline...

"Juri," Dima's call shot through him and Juri flailed, sputtering as he dipped underwater before he got his feet under him and turned around, blinking water out of his eyes.

"What?" That was less of a croak than it might have been, and Dima was wearing pants when he looked across the water up at him. At least. _Unfortunately_ , a little voice whispered. He still had a spectacular view of Dima's broad chest, his nipples almost startlingly pink against the paler skin. Juri cleared his throat and focused his gaze higher up, ears and tail both cocked in question.

" _What_ is this?"

The question of what 'what' was died into nothing as Dima held up the tin he must've gotten from his bag while searching for the knife to prepare the rabbit, and Juri wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or hide under the water. What came out was a smirk and a raised eyebrow while heat lit his cheeks.

"My cookies," he said, and then he was laughing as Dima stared at him, then at the tin, and then he even opened it to check. His face crumpled up most hilariously at the sight of the very real honey oat cookies lined up neatly inside. Juri tried to control himself, but it was impossible. "What, you thought there _weren't_ \---? I, uh, I just couldn't come up with a better cover for the Fortune when you asked what was making noise, and I was worried if I waved it off you'd _check_. The cookies were the first thing that came to mind."

The tin was metal, after all, and _could_ have ended up smacking against the sheathed knife. Probably had been what had made the noise that'd drawn Dima's attention, actually, so he technically hadn't even been lying. Technically.

" _Cookies_ ," Dima muttered flatly, staring down at the tin, then looked up at Juri again. His laughter died on a breathless, confused noise, and Juri fumbled for something to say, _anything_ to get away from the narrow, intense stare similar but... more compared to the ones he'd caught while they were both bathing, but nothing came to mind. 

Slowly, the tin was put down. 

Not so slowly, Dima stalked across the hard ground, long legs eating up the distance and, completely ignoring that he'd partially redressed, waded into the hot water. Steam lovingly curled around him and parted like startled deer as he cleaved through the water, every line of him carrying a predator's intent.

The question was just if someone was going to die from it or not.

Juri stared, unable to tell what was going on, but his cock and heart both throbbed, because neither was listening to his brain and the screaming order that he should move. He really, really should, shouldn't he, before Dima did... whatever it was he was thinking about doing. 

Dima's eyes were like steady flames of blue fire, and Juri couldn't look away. The frantic alarm did nothing to get Juri's feet unstuck from the hot spring's bottom, and then Dima was towering above him as he stopped right in front of him and reached out. 

His large hand slid slowly - _carefully_ \- over Juri's wet skin and into equally wet hair, tangling in the sodden curls. It burned where it was pressed against Juri's skin, thumb and fingers cradling his cheek and framing the bottom of his ear as Dima tugged, tilting Juri's head back until he had no choice but to stare up at him, his pulse loud in his ears.

"Dima---"

This wasn't what it looked like, was it?

Dima didn't answer at first, didn't move, either. Just stood there with an inscrutable look on his face, underpinned by the tension coiled in the rest of his body. It took several uncomfortable, confusing seconds before he slowly bent down with deliberate weight to the motion, and Juri didn't move. 

Dima's lips were soft, and insistent, but the pressure was gentle and the hand in his hair was light. It would be very easy to pull himself away, sideways if nothing else, away from the weight in the air, the suggestion of pressure from Dima's body not touching him anywhere but against his lips and in his hair.

This _was_ exactly what it looked like, and maybe he hadn't needed to be so worried about upsetting Dima's sensibilities with his feelings and the possibility of ruining what had seemed to finally be genuine friendship. 

Some sort of noise escaped, died where their lips met, and Juri stretched as far as he could, pressing close and reaching up to wrap his arms around Dima's broad shoulders, his claws prickling the fur on Dima's back. Like that had broken something, the hand in his hair convulsed, then tightened. Dima's other arm wrapped around Juri's waist and pulled him closer, _somehow_ , and Dima's lips crushed his. It was still Juri who opened his mouth first, and after that, what he mostly was paying attention to was the press of Dima's body against his and the way his nerves were singing, dizzy all the way out to the tips of his ears and tail.

If this was all he got out of this sudden change, Juri couldn't say he'd mind that.

Given that there was a hand on his ass as Dima shifted his grip from his waist, it probably _wouldn't_ be all he got out of it, however. And as careful as Dima had been to start with, now there was no chance to move away, to do anything at all but stand still and ride the sensation. Dima somehow turned a kiss into a full-body sensation, every shifting press of tongue and lips sliding down Juri's spine to settle at the base of his tail, pooling warmly further below, and shooting tingles out into his toes and fingers. He finally shifted his weight slightly backwards, and Juri took the opportunity to nibble on the enticingly soft lip so close to his teeth.

Dima _growled_ , and then there was no ground under his feet at all, but there _were_ two hands on his ass.

Laughing when they finally separated, Juri slumped against Dima's shoulder and tried to stop the swooping sense of unreality that'd settled in his stomach. It fought with the arousal, the latter not helped at all when Dima turned around and simply carried him back to land, though he did put him down next to the unlit fire, and Juri pretended he didn't have to struggle into his pants for more than just being wet.

There was a soft huff behind him, and a hand brushed his shoulder, pressing down.

"Sit."

Juri's breath caught, and the swooping sense of unreality lost to arousal, but also something softer, deeper. There'd been this _weight_ to that single word which made it far harder to ignore or disobey than the comparatively light pressure on his shoulder. Tilting his head so he could glance up at Dima from under his lashes, Juri licked his lips and then turned, sinking down with the same movement. Maybe he should say something, but he wasn't sure exactly what it ought to be.

The fingers in his hair, when Dima sat down behind him, were as expected as they were _unexpected_ , and Juri was soon practically melting into the careful finger-combing happening. It was only when the throaty hum picked up that he flinched and squashed it, embarrassed.

"No. Don't stop that," Dima said, and this time there was something softer, if still heavy, in the words. Juri frowned and turned so he could look over his shoulder, ignoring the way the obvious want in Dima's tone had instantly settled in his gut, his _chest_ , while his ears hesitantly eased up from their embarrassed tenseness.

"... You're sure?" Maybe it was ridiculous to be worried, but aside from his looks, Dima's greatest offense at what he was had always seemed to come from how he mangled their language, unable to replicate certain sounds correctly, and that extended to many of the natural noises... It also definitely applied to purring, which he couldn't actually do. His best approximation was further back in the throat than normal humming, but it was still very much _humming_. Dima's blue eyes were serious when he met his gaze, and then with a careful, but firm hand gripped his chin and turned him back around.

"Yes, I'm sure, Juri."

Maybe he didn't actually need to say anything about what'd happened, not when Dima's answer was _that_ , and the way his hand crept slightly sideways when he hesitantly relaxed and started up again, to rub around his ear. It certainly made it impossible to stop the noise again, even if he'd wanted to.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dima deals with the Hotspring Conclusion, with their escape and Juri's opinions on his actions, and then, lastly, tries to deal with their heat.
> 
> He only does rather well with the first thing, honestly.

His lips were still tingling, seemingly following the cadence of the soft noise coming from Juri. There was lingering tension, still, around Juri's shoulders, but when Dima relaxed and let the natural version to Juri's approximation rumble in his chest, it disappeared. This wasn't what he'd planned to do. If anything, all he'd vaguely been planning, if anything at all, was to kiss Juri goodbye when they were back on more familiar soil, perhaps teaching him a song or two to make up for his behaviour. That would've avoided any complications, any desire to drag this out further that he shouldn't indulge in.

Juri's thick, soft curls were going from deeply blood-red to the more fox-coloured shades as his hair slowly dried under Dima's hands, and maybe he should fetch the wide-toothed comb Juri had, but he didn't feel like moving. Or feel substituting his hands, for that matter. The mass of it was longer when wet, pulled out into long, flat waves more than curls, but he was soon sitting with a heavy cloud of twists that caught his fingers, reflecting flashes of gold in the last flickers of sunlight visible on the horizon. Later, he would feel no more resentment in helping Juri groom the parts of his fur he couldn't reach himself, and would be pleased to have similar help.

What was he supposed to do with this? A momentary indulgence would be fine, of course, and it wasn't anything he hadn't done before, though Juri was both the first of that that didn't come from the tribes, _and_ wasn't a full-blooded feli besides. Curiosity. He could chalk this up to that, examine it, play with it, and then let it go.

Burying one hand in Juri's hair all the way down to his wrist and sliding his other around to trail up Juri's throat and tip his his back, watching wide, mismatched eyes blink up at him and the arch of his throat stretched out under the rounded chin, he leaned down and kissed him again. Awkward, like that, but the laughter he was licking up sparked as much sensation as the bump and slide of their lips.

Yes.

That was what he'd do. Let go when this was done, because Juri lived on literally the other end of the continent, was soft and almost literally fluffy even if he was also adaptable, and Dima had things he had to do. Never mind the way his need to possess always stirred when he actually gave in to desire and sentiment this deeply; getting distracted wouldn't do. He could control himself if he truly needed to. Completely aside from that, as much as there now was an awkward, uncertain desire to show off to Juri what he before wouldn't have wanted Juri so much as _think_ about, Juri being a half-breed would probably earn him too much judgement if he convinced him to go with him. Not everybody would be as atrocious about it as he had been, but that didn't mean it wouldn't happen. Some might even be worse.

It would be... irresponsible, to both indulge himself if that was what he'd end up wanting to do when they had to part, and to encourage Juri to stay with him, especially when he would have to leave him for long stretches of time _anyway_.

Better to simply take what was given until this journey was over.

Pulling back with a sigh, he met wide, bright eyes, and tugged on the hair in his grip. Juri shuddered, just a little, and Dima felt something inside rise up at the sight. Squashing it, he breathed in instead. This close, he could tell there was a faint suggestion of something warm clinging to the red strands. A scent that wasn't that, just yet. It was almost familiar.

"You're going to eat those cookies tonight, or I'm going to think you put them there just for a very long-running joke."

A wide-eyed blink that would've rankled him before, because he would have thought Juri was playing stupid - it was obvious now it was just surprise, and currently it made him want to kiss that expression away, which a second later turned into a wide, wide upside down grin.

"Well, maybe I _did_. Got them from Golsha--- _Ah_! Dima!" Juri cried, twisting away from him and the hand he'd tweaked one of Juri's ears with, meeting Juri's offended pout with a smirk. It was... surprisingly relaxing, to trade teasing like this. He was becoming used to it, as unfamiliar as it'd been, but it'd seemed overly, _presumptuously_ familiar coming from Juri before, which was why that, too, had rankled.

"Perhaps you should take care what you say when you're sitting within arm's reach," he said, the smirk softening as if he truly was as innocent as the tone and smile implied, and Juri snorted, a lopsided smile on his face as he stood up, his tail flicking out to brush Dima's nose. Eyes narrowing, Dima swallowed a huff. Juri didn't know what he was playing with, but it was hard to resent him for how happy he suddenly seemed; almost glowing.

"Or _what_?" Juri tossed back, then actually went to deal with the rabbit after tossing Dima his comb. He made quick work of his own hair, then, just to keep from doing anything and delaying dinner further, lit the fire. Juri _really_ didn't know what he was doing, and _he_ needed to keep a tight reign on himself, or he'd end up wanting far too much. He should have waited, but he wasn't about to walk things back now; they'd deal with it. He was not so weak as to be completely unable to control his body, even in less ideal circumstances.

That was Dima's firm conviction and the constraints he set for himself as they left the pool the next morning and the next couple days, the hot spot area stretching wide in front of them even after they came out of the valley. It gave them another evening near a safe hot spring, another excuse to run his hands through Juri's hair - though this time, Juri took the comb from him and returned the favour. He did not imagine Juri leaning in close enough to nearly bury his nose in the pale strands, muttering something about getting close enough to untangle a knot. There was no knot, but he said nothing. Only hoped, maybe, that the faint suggestion of scent Juri would've picked up had pleased him.

It was such a base insecurity it was rather pathetic, and not one he'd often had cause to get acquainted with. Possibly it was only because he had treated Juri as he had for the first half of the journey; as much as he had stopped, that didn't mean it hadn't left an impact, and he knew it.

In turn, Juri was as shy as he was boldly clear about what he wanted. And what he wanted, a lot of the time, was to _tease_ ; it seemed like he breathed it, and it didn't just extend to the friendly teasing that'd been present from day one, as much as he'd tried to squash it. No, it extended to this too, and he should have expected it, honestly.

"Juri." Dima grunted, squinting at the shy, scrubby growth around them, a return to the graze-suitable lands they'd passed through before reaching the badlands before the desert. There were still occasional hot springs, scattered around the landscape, though fewer and farther between and not safe to bathe in, often stinking of sulphur or boiling hot. "Stop that."

He gently whacked the furry shin tucked in behind his own leg with his tail and shifted his grip on the reins to one hand, his other clamping down on the hands at his waist, trapping all the fingers under his palm. Juri's hands were small compared to his, and while clever, still couldn't free themselves from his grip. 

Of course there was fabric between Juri's fingers and his skin, but Juri had been plucking at the frayed belt and finding the waistband of his pants through the fabric of the shirt, skimming along it. It was... distracting. Behind him, pressed up against him though shifting back a little as Juri picked up on his forbidding tone and clearly uncertain how far he could go, left more space than necessary. Like he'd acknowledged, his behaviour had left an impact, though perhaps he was also far too used to dealing with particular sorts of people and that bled through into everything else.

"I was just checking if you needed a new belt. I think you do." Despite the caution in his response to being chastised, Juri's comment was a teasing lilt, _almost_ innocent, and Dima snorted, finding himself smiling, if just a little. Rolled his eyes and squeezed the hands he'd trapped, thumb skating along the edge between almost fully regrown fuzzy fur and brown skin.

"I certainly do, but since I don't have a change of clothing, refrain from trying to pluck the fibers apart. And you don't need to sit like that," he said, voice softening just a shade, and Juri, after a beat of hesitation, shifted forward to plaster himself against his back again. That was not much less distracting than Juri's wandering hands, but it was worth it; Dima had quickly found he preferred feeling the firm weight of the small body pressed up against his for the couple of hours every day they rode their horse instead of using her as a packhorse to save her strength. It was as close as he allowed himself to come to sleeping wrapped around Juri; too close, too soon, and with the days running away from them, it was a healthy precaution to take, to hopefully limit the impact.

"I'll just keep to your hair, then. It smells better than your clothes," Juri said, voice bright, though there was an immediate pause after and a shift behind him as Juri ducked his head, forehead rubbing against his back, that heralded the blush he couldn't see and one of the brief appearances of Juri being flustered, having said something he hadn't quite meant to. It answered his concern from days ago, though, and Dima relaxed a little deeper in the saddle, a smirk pulling on his lips.

"It does, does it?"

He did not tell him he found the seemingly familiar suggestion of scent from Juri as pleasant as Juri apparently found his. Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised a half-breed with a sweet tooth would find a sweeter smell attractive, but it was definitely _pleasing_. In response to his tone, Juri muffled an embarrassed groan against his back and, at least for now, subsided with his infernal teasing. Dima doubted it would last for long, and he couldn't say he would want it to.

Around noon the next day they had to avoid their first town; not even a small village, but a proper settlement steaming with obvious hot springs. Probably a resort town founded right at the edge of the hot spot to take advantage of hot, but safe, water. Having come up on it rather abruptly, expecting a farm for the grazing clumps of cattle they'd ridden around and not a _town_ , they backtracked a short distance, though there was no way to completely hide that they were passing. The area was too flat, the soft curve of low hills too even. The most they could do was make themselves less easy to pick out as anything but two people passing in the distance, or lose more time than it was worth.

And time was something they didn't need to lose more of at the moment, even if, Dima knew more than well enough, there was _no way_ for them to reach somewhere safe within the week. Somewhere they would be able to hide and not only let their guards down, but find other feli it might be safe to approach. Admittedly, that idea made him almost growl, but just because they had gotten to _this point_ didn't mean they should go further. And he shouldn't _want to_ , just as he shouldn't be attracted to a half-breed, but there it was anyway.

Late afternoon, Dima stopped worrying about the 'shoulds' and 'should nots', picking up a slight strain on the wind, a humanoid shadow near one of the clumps of cattle. Could of course be a cattle herder, but he was feeling too cynical for that. How in the hell had they been found again, and so quickly after they left the desert? Were there enough of them so that, whoever they were, had simply hurried north-west when Juri and Dima dipped into the desert and spread out along the deserts northern edge to wait for them?

"Dima?" Juri shifted behind him, clearly picking up on the tension he hadn't intended to reveal, and he shook his head, ears twitching.

"We've regained our tail," he said, unable to not scowl, and Juri tightened his arms around him. Gratifying, maybe, if he wasn't focused on cursing what must be some sort of enchanted item used to track them. There was no other way they could have found them again, so soon, so unerringly.

"Do we skip stopping for the night?" 

It was an idea, but one that would make it too obvious they knew they were being followed, which would tip their pursuers' hand and probably to _their_ disadvantage, not their pursuers. He shook his head, though his hands tightened about the reins, making their horse - Juri had, noting how the dark-gray coat with extensive rabicano turning her bottom white, decided to call her Svala - twitch nervously under them.

"No. They'll realize we know. We'll wait."

"Dima..."

"I _know_ , Juri," Dima grunted, and thankfully Juri dropped the topic without pushing it. They both knew they were running short on days, though all that was obvious just yet was a creeping strengthening of their scents, not yet identifiable as what they would smell like later, but... they would be, relatively soon. Their pursuers finding them now was supremely bad timing, and it made Dima wish he had something suitable to bury his claws in. He did not, so instead he eased his grip up on the reins and urged Svala forward, teeth gritted.

He compromised by not stopping as early as they usually did, and starting earlier the next morning, but that did not really seem to help. It didn't matter what they did, which just strengthened his conviction that whoever they were _did_ have an enchanted tracker of some sort. The question was more, then, how they'd picked them out in Kushrrata, because that was the most likely point where they'd been identified. Their pursuers' method was curious as well, seemingly satisfied with following them for now, just like they had before. Maybe they were just confident they could strike whenever they wanted, or they were waiting for them to reach a particular spot... The only such spot that might be worth waiting for was until they were closer to the road going westwards towards Shidesh. They'd have to cross it to continue north, towards the coast unless they followed the edge of the desert westwards and skirted around Shidesh that way, but that would just add even more time. Of course that wouldn't matter for their most pressing current issue, but Dima had had quite enough of Kurrata as it was. If there was any choice at all, he'd take the shortest route available. It also made them pretty predictable, even if their pursuers _hadn't_ had a way to follow them.

There was no real way to win, only to hope for a chance that'd make them harder to catch, to create more distance between them if not completely lose them. Unless... Frowning, Dima reached back to finger his hair tie, and the little flute kept within. Perhaps they had another option. A more permanent one, as long as they could act _right_ before their pursuers tried to collect them.

At least with Svala they could cover far more ground, even when they spent time walking, and they were within sight of the broad, well-kept road when they stopped that evening. He could smell nothing, but whoever they were, they were not as stealthy as they thought they were. Going through the motions was an exercise in patience and restraint, and even Juri could tell he might be planning something. Or, Juri might admittedly just be picking up on _his_ tension, and misattributing the reason for it.

Probably the latter, given the way the glances Juri threw his way were quickly averted, eyes wide but followed by tiny frowns. Juri was a good hunter, but he didn't live by it, and he was certainly no soldier. He had no training in picking up the things Dima was, but that didn't mean he couldn't pick up on tension, even well-hidden such.

"Juri," Dima said after dinner had been demolished and quirked a smile at him, "perhaps get your flute and sit down?" He gestured to the spot beside him rather pointedly, and the pleased, quick flush of a smile made it far harder than it should be not to pull Juri in for a kiss and get distracted by that when he came close enough for Dima to reach. He kept his hands to himself however, closing his eyes as if there was nothing in the least wrong, like he _couldn't_ pick up at least six... probably up to ten, bodies around them. Indulged enough to wrap an arm around Juri's shoulders, enjoying the firm width of them, and couldn't deny the way the smaller body shifting just a little closer warmed his insides and made him tighten his grip a little more.

The first tune that spilled from the sprightly burble of the flute was something that fit the instrument well, teasingly bright, almost sounding like birdsong. As it wound down, it melted over into something strangely sedate, a mournful sort of melody that featured several stops, immediately followed by longer, brighter calls. It could have been magic, even Dima could recognize that, if it had been allowed to be, if it'd been _tweaked_ , just a little. It was only music, however, though hovering on the edge of haunting. 

Listening to it, Dima wished this was all what was going on. Wished, suddenly, to maybe teach Juri at least _one_ song, to hear how he would interpret it. He squashed that thought immediately, not ready just yet to open things that weren't for outsiders so soon, for something that was not about to last. Not that Juri would not treat what he was taught with respect - he would probably abide by not playing it anywhere anyone else could hear if asked - but that Dima was even contemplating telling Juri... It had been easier, when he was just constantly offended by Juri's very existence, using his dislike to justify denying any greater insight into his culture.

Nothing was quite that simple anymore, even less their current situation, their pursuers lurking in the dark. They had definitely come closer during Juri's playing, though they must have taken precautions not to be noticed by the scents that should be obvious by now. When he glanced down to Juri, he caught him flicking a couple looks out into the darkness beyond their fire, then glance up at him, his fingers stiff around the flute. Tipping his head just slightly, Dima squeezed the shoulder in his grip, then used his free hand to ease the little whistle out from its hiding spot. Juri caught it with an arch of his eyebrows, and Dima smirked briefly a wry twist of his lips.

"Let's see if I can make a worthy accompaniment," he chose to say, banking on that this close, Juri would avoid the enchanted whistle's effect. It would not matter, in the end. Though, as he watched Juri watch him as he started to play the whistle, eyes narrowing and his ears twitching his way, alertly perked, Dima rather wished he'd had the foresight of letting Juri sit where he may. If he'd fallen asleep again, the next step would have been easier.

Too late now, and he'd simply have to deal with it.

Juri was soon playing along with him, filling out around the nightingale song, matching, perpendicular. His narrow frown turned thoughtful, then _pleased_ , even as he kept throwing glances around them. He could feel the spark of magic heavily the air, and soon their surroundings were almost deathly quiet in contrast to their combined melody, but neither of them had missed the soft clatters and thumps around them. When Dima let the whistle drop, Juri looked ready to spring up at once, though at the same time he hunched over with a laugh caught in his throat, clearly amused at the way they'd thwarted their pursuers, however temporarily. His eyes sparkled in the firelight, and Dima gave in, leaning down and snagging Juri's hair at the same time, tilting his head up even as Juri was obligingly turning it up _for him_ and leaning into the kiss.

He didn't linger, but he swallowed Juri's chuckles until there was a gasp instead, then stood up.

"Douse the fire and get our things while I deal with this," he said, tipping his head out into the shadows around them, then crossed over to where the bags were, and where he'd dropped the saber he'd taken from Ar-Alhana's camp along with the water to replace the _other_ sword. He turned around to Juri staring at him across the fire, looking vaguely ashy.

"Wait, you can't mean you're going to _kill them_?" To his credit, despite that the sleepers around them wouldn't wake from it, Juri kept his voice low, an urgent thorny hiss that, probably quite unintentionally, made his speech issue more evident. Sighing, Dima shook his head.

"It will keep them from following us," he said and turned away, but Juri could, of course, not leave it at that. He was quick, and while he was silent enough Dima was surprised exactly _how_ quickly he crossed the campsite, the hand pulling on the back of his shirt was an annoying, wasteful impediment.

"They're _asleep_!"

Dima found himself turning around against his better judgement, and was faced with an expression somewhere between incredulous fury and wide-eyed, silent begging, Juri's ears pinned back and lips soft, though the flash of fang was bright in the dancing light. Leaning down, he covered Juri's eyes with his free hand, kissing the crown of his curly head.

"And if you could close your ears, eyes, and heart, only Avas would know what crime I will have committed tonight. It could mean our freedom, Juri."

He was not surprised when Juri shook his head, one hand so tight around his flute it was probably a wonder he didn't break it.

"They're _asleep_ ," he hissed again, frustration and distress turning it into a warble at the end, pure animal noise that tugged too close on Dima's desire to protect for him to completely ignore it. It was a pity that the most effective way to ensure Juri's protection would currently hurt him. Dima sighed and contemplated that he hadn't heard that sort of noise from Juri back in the cavern, though perhaps there'd been no opportunity. Then, too, Juri had his own pride, and it was doubtful he would have relaxed enough in front of the humans to willingly reveal how distressed he was by what they'd tried to take from him.

"Douse the fire, get us ready to leave," he repeated against auburn curls, and Juri, picking up on his tone, didn't stop him this time. 

He should honestly take the trust he'd been given and violate it, to keep them both safe. 

Instead he walked away from the fire, which was soon out as Juri did as asked, and searched out the figures spread out around their campsite, all asleep, and did not raise his sword once. Not even the fact that they were all felin would've saved them, because he didn't value their lives as highly as he did his own and Juri's, but it was... a surprise. That might explain how they'd picked them out, too. He did search them, trying to ignore the scents he was finally picking up this close, scratching at his nose and nerves both. He skipped the ones who were obviously not invested with any authority, looking for...

What, exactly, he couldn't be sure until he found it, but while he was patting down a tall, slim female feli, her chest surprisingly flat--- oh. Anyway, he did find exactly what he was looking for when he pulled out a compass hanging from around her neck. Bending over and ignoring her sleepy mutter of unconscious protest to being jostled, Dima frowned down at the compass' face. Not a single cardinal direction was marked out on it, only obvious for what it was thanks to the needles under the glass. Needles which were pointing straight at him and slightly to the side of him - the direction of the campsite, and thus, Juri.

Shifting it to the side only made the needles shift so much to be pointing in their right direction again, which clearly wasn't north. However they'd attuned these to him and Juri, they _were_ clearly attuned to them.

"Clever," he muttered, shooting the feli on the ground a narrow look, and lifted the small compass from around her neck. He could always have use of it, at some point, he was sure. Either way, he wouldn't leave it with these people. Leaving them alive was still ridiculously stupid, but depriving them of the enchanted compass ought to give them the extra advantage they needed.

When he came back to the campsite, Juri had secured his bags behind the saddle, and it was probably just his imagination, but Svala looked deeply unimpressed by what they were clearly setting out to do. A hand in passing on Juri's shoulder, Dima stopped by Svala's neck and stroked both it and her velvety nose.

"I apologize, but this will be an unpleasant night for you," he said quietly, refusing to turn around when he caught a small sound from Juri. At least he didn't actually say anything about that little display, simply waiting for Dima to mount Svala so he could follow up behind him. They would push the poor horse far further than they'd done so far, but it was necessary. Especially so when they would continue to be predictable; going off west or east instead of crossing the road and continue north would be less obvious, but at this point, it probably didn't matter. He would rather close distance towards their goal than going off perpendicular to it.

The best would be if they could risk a town enough to find at least a couple felin to hide among for a couple days; it would confuse their scents at the very least. This close to Shidesh, though, Dima held no illusions about how there would most probably be soldiers in every town, village, _hamlet_ , and soldiers roaming the road as well. It would be even less worth the temporary, _potential_ protection.

They had been lucky, with Dilshad and her hidden village of escaped slaves; nothing to say other slaves, and quite understandably so, wouldn't value their own safety over helping, even if they would want to do so.

Better not risk it at all.

They rode through the night, bursts of gallop interspersed with long stretches of trotting, and, very reluctantly, similar stretches of walking, as well. They would be even less served if he drove Svala to exhaustion (and Juri would be quite wroth with him), but the urge was there. He felt wound tighter and tighter as the night went on, despite the many hours awake. Near dawn, Juri was heavy against his back, twitching upright every now and then as he continually woke up from having fallen asleep. He'd caught one wrist to keep Juri secured, but he found himself stroking the thin skin of Juri's inner wrist as the sun rose, and the hand he'd left free was spread, small and warm and strong, over his stomach. He could smell sun-warmed pine by the time he reined Svala in to a stop; it filled his nose, his _awareness_. Following it was a spicier edge - resin, perhaps. It was almost like standing under the alpine pines a day in deep summer.

"We'll take a couple hours to rest, then continue," he said as if it wasn't hard to let go of Juri's wrist or step away from Svala to hobble her and not help Juri down from her even if he certainly didn't need the help.

"Okay," Juri muttered, voice rough with a groan as he scrubbed his face, but Dima could also tell those mismatched eyes were following his every move, and he slowed despite what he ought to do. Juri's gaze was warmly appreciative, and he needed to stop, not indulge in it.

"Don't get your full bedroll out," he said as he rounded Svala to free her of the bags, then the saddle, quickly tossing the right bag to Juri. Made sure he was several steps away from him at all times, taking matching steps back when Juri tried to give him his own blanket after pulling it out. At first, there was just a rather adorably confused scrunch of Juri's nose before he paused, staring up at him. Licked his lips and nodded, tossing Dima the blanket before he could ask him to do so. Understanding what Dima was trying to do.

It was both easy and complete torture to fall asleep on opposite ends of what they'd made their 'campsite', with Svala between them.

Dima woke up with his nose buried in red curls, smelling sun-warmed pine and resin, and reflexively tightened his arms around the body he was laying against. The bundle drawled a chirrup and arched his back, waking Dima up instantly. He froze as a still very much asleep Juri rubbed the curve of his ass against his erection, and his mouth went dry while charged electricity heated up his body.

He had not gone to sleep on this side of their campsite.

His rumpled and abandoned blanket was, in fact, still a short distance away, visible past Svala's legs as she nibbled on the grass within her reach. In contrast, on this side of the campsite he'd clearly freed Juri from _his_ blanket and then replaced it with himself. While asleep.

What had been a quiet, insistent pressure before they laid down to sleep had become a rampant, furious throb filling his body, heat coiling in his muscles and in his brain. Dima could smell vanilla against the warm resin-and-pine scent tickling his nose, and he tilted his head towards Juri's neck before he quite thought about it. Stilled himself with his lips a bare breath from very bare skin. There should have been skin _and_ fur there, but for as off-putting as it was for a brief moment, Dima wanted to latch on just as much, still, in the next.

He'd been sure he'd be able to handle this, that it would not slow their escape from their pursuers. What he should do to prove to himself that he _could_ , that his body and his needs were not his master, was to turn away.

What he _wanted_ was to flip Juri over, shred his pants and rut against him. Or perhaps pull away (as much as the thought alone made him tighten his grip), smack the tempting drop-shaped curve of Juri's ass to send him fleeing, giving himself a chance to chase.

Yes, those were both very good options, along with burying his teeth in the equally tempting curve between neck and shoulder, the curved line of it strong and spattered with freckles, like a night-sky in inverse, all cast in smooth brown.

Want.

He burned with it, his thighs nearly trembling with the need to thrust forward against the strong body he'd clutched to himself. 

Furious with himself, his body, the _time_ all this had taken to leave them here when they had pursuers so very close on their tails, Dima tore himself away. That, though, caused Juri to make a sleepy noise of protest that went straight to his cock and he froze, kneeling over him.

Juri looked very small, like this, half curled up, his elegant, thickly-furred tail almost as long as his legs and the tip of it twitching lazily. Curls were escaping his braid, framing the long oval of his face and highlighting the plush curve of his generous lips. Dima was brushing his cheek before he caught himself and stood up, stomping over to the bags. Food. That would be _some_ sort of distraction. There were better things to eat just a couple meters behind him, however...

"Juri," he snarled, his voice dropping on the last syllable and fairly rumbling through him, a caress in its own right, "wake up."

Yes. Wake up, so he could have the pretty little kitten actually awake and _aware_ to play with him---

"Ugh." Juri's greeting for the morning was a low scratch of his usually-soft voice, and Dima caught him freezing out of the corner of his eyes. Caught, without meaning to because he'd turned more than he should have to watch him, the way oval pupils went round and then swallowed the green and gold. Juri licked his lips, and Dima might have torn up some of the ground beside the bag, quickly yanking out some of the last strips of jerky.

"Uh--- morning," Juri said, and Dima grunted, decisively turning away, _definitely not_ looking as that lithe, strong body stood up, stretched and then undid the braid. No, he didn't. But he could smell Juri still, like home, like need.

He wanted---

Tightening his hands into fists, his claws prickling his palms, Dima exhaled sharply, picked up the jerky, and tossed a couple of the strips to Juri the moment he was facing him, a question on his face and his body arched in ways he probably wasn't even aware he was doing. Calling, calling, and Dima would like nothing but to answer it, to chase.

He couldn't do this.

Practically tearing into the jerky in a futile attempt to distract himself, Dima could smell arousal under their individual scents lacing together in a dizzy - dangerous - cocktail. Juri was leaning towards him even as he was focusing on his own breakfast, and like this, they would not get even a kilometer out. Gritting his teeth as he finished up, Dima took the only decision he could, for an hour spent trying to tamp this down without giving in to the fire should hopefully get them on their way.

Hopefully. Maybe. If he could just keep himself _here_ , and not follow Juri.

"Juri." Looking up, he immediately had to look away, because the red curls spilling over Juri's shoulder was tickling his bare collarbone and leading his eyes towards the wide collar and the dip in the shirt right below the hollow of his throat.

"Yeah?" 

He looked painfully hopeful, heat and need suffusing not just every line of his body, but his voice as well, and it was physically painful to restrain himself. It had to be done, however. They couldn't afford to get caught, not when they'd just clawed what extra bit of advantage they had gotten from depriving their pursuers of the enchanted compass, now tucked away in one of Juri's bags.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Needs, unfortunately, must. Juri and Dima lose their battle against the natural demands of felin bodies and lose their advantage in general. At least they have fun during.

"Leave."

Juri shuddered at the uncompromising crack of Dima's voice, looking up with a protest already halfway out on his tongue, but froze. Closed his mouth and swallowed, looking away from the thin-lipped scowl on Dima's face, in sharp contrast with the faint spots of colour on his otherwise pale cheeks. Of course. Just because he did like him - liked him well enough the last two weeks had turned a journey that previously had been so exhausting into something far more fulfilling - didn't mean he actually wanted to have sex with him, even under the pressure of heat. Even if that could be an easy excuse to relieve the pressure even if he _wasn't_ actually attracted to him that way. 

Or even if Dima was, but wouldn't want to admit to it. There was a sick lurch in his gut that almost left Juri dizzy with the weird vertigo of thwarted arousal, even as it persisted, thrumming through him and leaving him clammy in the warm air.

"... Listen, kitten," Dima said, his voice shockingly soft compared to how he'd ordered him to leave, and Juri would've looked up, startled at the endearment, even if Dima hadn't grabbed his chin. The hand, in contrast to his voice, was unyielding, not so much demanding as simply _taking_ his compliance as Dima tilted his head up. He'd clearly been wrong about what Dima might or might not want, if the hooded darkness in his bright, vivid blue eyes was anything to go by when he reluctantly met Dima's gaze. "I would want nothing better than to toss you to the ground, right now. Keep you on your hands and knees for the rest of the day. Perhaps the next two or three days."

If he wasn't already almost weak-kneed from the insistent pressure of _need_ roiling in his limbs, Juri would definitely have been from Dima's voice. It went from apologetically soft to a magnetic, rumbling thunder of desire that echoed the one in Juri's body, and there was now claws prickling his jaw. Dima's tail flicked in tense little twitches behind him, like he was hunting despite that he had, honestly, already caught his prey. Dima smelled of vanilla, rich and sweet, and Juri would've swayed further forward towards that scent if the hand on his chin hadn't been so uncompromising. 

Was it embarrassing his sweet tooth was echoed in what scents he was most drawn to during mating season..? A little.

"I don't do things by halves, and I wouldn't have kissed you if I had reservations," Dima continued, his thumb now against Juri's bottom lip, pressing down gently, "but we don't have time for this."

It took a second, two, and then Juri blinked, brain actually engaging against what his body was screaming it wanted and he sighed. Remembered the dance they'd been doing before they went to sleep for a couple of hours, understood the reason for it. Every part of Juri drooping as he slumped, he nodded as well as he could with the grip on his chin. Despite that understanding, it took monumental self-control not to suck the tip of Dima's thumb into his mouth, just a _little_ , as temptingly close as it was. Instead he tried to simply breathe out some of the tension and nodded again.

"We can't get distracted for several hours. Even less _days_. Not right now." It was both surprising, and also not, to hear how rough his voice sounded when he spoke, and it was definitely not his imagination when he caught the slight shudder from Dima, or the way his pupils, already large and round, somehow dilated just a shade further. It was like looking at the backlit halo around a storm cloud, electric blue outlining consuming darkness, and Juri wanted to turn around and entice Dima to follow. To catch.

They could not afford to be distracted.

"Exactly," Dima grunted, but still his thumb stroked over Juri's bottom lip one more time before he finally let go, took a step back and gestured sharply, "so take we take an hour, _separate_ , work out some energy. Get on our way."

If only it was that easy. 

If only there actually was a way to burn off the arousal throbbing through them, insistent. 

Hunting (not how he wanted to do it) and trying to jack off (not enough) wouldn't get rid of _this_. The ironic thing was, if they - or rather, Dima - had waited until after the heat to kiss Juri, it probably wouldn't have been quite this bad, Juri knew from experience. Heat was always distracting, but it was definitely made worse if you were attracted to someone, if you'd _gotten somewhere_ with that attraction. Like called to like, that was the point, after all. Admittedly, maybe they would've ended up here anyway.

"Right. Okay." Another sharp exhale and he nodded. Managed a smile as he took a step back, and it wasn't fair, watching the way Dima went stock still, following his tiniest twitch as he slid another hesitant half step back, intently alert. Then Dima broke the tension by turning away, jerky like a marionette, and Juri couldn't deny the way his stomach sunk, no matter how necessary it was that they try to focus. "I'll leave."

He did.

Juri took off running almost immediately, if only to give the heat in his limbs some form of outlet. He felt hyper-sensitive, which made him as grateful for his clothes as he resented them, pressing down, restricting, _rubbing_ against him with every step, but they cut down on how much of him was exposed to the wind, which was ruffling the fur on his legs and lower arms as he ran. The air was alive with scents; rich, yellow grass against dry earth, a nearby copse of oaks darker green against the drier scents, and inevitably, his own pine-and-resin. It was annoying. He wanted something... sweeter. He wanted---

Juri jumped back, turning himself away from where he'd swung around to face back towards the campsite and groaned, yanking on his hair. Movement out of the corner of his eye had him leaping towards it, following the scurrying movement until he pounced, trapping the little mouse under his hands unharmed. Breath hot in his throat and his heart thundering, Juri swallowed. He could smell its fur, the fear. Practically feel its racing heartbeat when he closed his hands tightly enough it couldn't move at all.

There was no urge to do anything at all with it.

Lifting his hands, Juri watched the mouse dart into the grass again with a distinct sense of jealousy. The mouse might not have enjoyed the experience, but at least _it_ had gotten chased. Flopping down onto his front, he folded his arms under him and smacked his face against them, then turned his head so he could rub his cheek against the fur there. Shuddered, the sensation rippling through him and sparking electricity, and groaned again.

How was he supposed to be able to focus on simply sitting behind Dima while they rode Svala in just an hour? All he could think about was the way his cock throbbed, liquid heat radiating out down into his thighs, collecting at the base of his tail. He'd rather be riding Dima than Svala.

" _Fuck_." Hissing, Juri gave up on pressing his hips into the ground, freed one arm to reach down underneath himself, pulling his legs up with him. It was awkward, undoing the belt with just one hand, but he was determined, and this position was... helping, a little. Another hiss, less animal noise and just a sharp exhalation, escaped him when he pulled his cock out. Biting down on his own arm as he stroked himself, Juri pressed his eyes against the soft patch of fur and spread his knees. His tail lashed behind him until he brought it in between his legs, the tip of it stealing down his pants so he could rub his balls.

It wasn't good enough. He knew it wasn't, but he'd just be even more disappointed if he tried burying a finger or two in himself. It just wasn't what he wanted, so all he had to hope for was that this would temporarily be, if not good enough, then just... enough. 

Something. 

Everything would be easier if Dima had waited, if _he_ hadn't been feeling things he'd been sure would never have been reciprocated. Some other things would also be simpler if certain instincts and preferences didn't get jacked up to eleven during heat, Juri thought sourly, then lost his train of thought to the tremble of his muscles.

Squeezing roughly enough he almost bit his own tongue trying to swallow the noise that wanted out, he slid his hand up to the head, rubbing it until his hips were twitching, unsure whether to grind back into the teasing cushion of moving fur around his balls, the needy want lower than that, or _forwards_. He lost his fight with either and gasped, shuddering, as he spilled on the ground, the smell sharp in his nostrils.

It was, almost, enough. Just for a few seconds, a couple breaths and the frantic staccato of his heart slowed a little.

Slumping against his arm, Juri stayed right as he was, ass up in the air and knees digging into dry, hard earth and bent grass. The crushed scents of summer around him mingled with his own pine-and-resin, arousal, come, and... vanilla? Blinking into the hazy shadows of his arm and hair spilling around him, Juri breathed in, stilling.

He was definitely picking up the heady, natural sweetness that he'd only ever had the chance to stare at on the other side of windows to bakeries too upscale for the sort of money he usually had access to. But it wasn't the only place he'd smelled that scent, not any longer, since for the last few days, it'd also been coming from... Dima.

Juri sprung to his feet, fighting with his pants and belt with less thought to consequence and more for the need to move. He needed some distance between them, though Dima wasn't yet so close he'd be able to simply pounce on him. 

He needed to run, because they couldn't actually let themselves get distracted. He needed to run because every single keening bit of him was demanding he move, to not make it easy.

So he ran. 

The first few steps were shaky with residual afterglow along with the still-insistent arousal, but he forced his muscles to obey and dashed through the grass in a curving path back towards their campsite, as bare as it was. The hour wasn't over yet, but if he went back there, maybe Dima would be distracted. If he went back there, he had a vial of oil tucked away in one of his bags. Juri shook his head sharply, curls in his eyes and tried to focus on what he _needed_ to do and not what he _wanted_ , but every breath he took was choked with vanilla and arousal. 

He didn't look behind him, but he knew Dima was there - could pick up the rustling shift of grass not in tune with the disturbance he was creating as he ran; ducked away from a clawed hand he just barely caught out of the corner of his eye, laughing breathlessly.

There was a copse of trees between them and the campsite, and Juri turned to run straight at it, intending to go through it since that would slow Dima down. He was bigger, broader; both the trees and the undergrowth would be in his way more than they would be for Juri. There was no real thought behind this decision, only the giddy awareness of the presence behind him, the burn in his limbs, and his arousal. He wanted to enjoy it for as long as possible, now that Dima was mere steps behind him.

Juri didn't reach the trees.

Between one step and the next, an arm snagged him about the waist and hauled him straight up in the air.

"Hey---!" Laughing again, it cut off into a breathless grunt when he met Dima's shoulder. He could have tried to kick, of course. Or claw at Dima's back. Those thoughts couldn't have been further from his mind for those would spoke of actual unwillingness, so while his new position was certainly not the most comfortable, all Juri did was press his hips against Dima's chest and squirm. Squirming which earned him a swat to his ass and a growl, almost swallowed under his startled noise of protest.

"Stop that. Mine now."

Oh. Well. He couldn't say no to _that_ , but Juri still snorted, flicking his tail, restless even as the rest of him had gone limp. He still wanted to do... something. So he attempted to look behind him, just enough to brush his tail against Dima's mouth and under his nose.

" _Juri_." It was a rumble, deep enough he felt it all the way down his spine, accompanied by Dima's hand sliding in one long, generous squeezing stroke from his ass to his thigh, long fingers pressed between his thighs at the end, and he swallowed.

"Right." Once again, his voice dropped down, rough with the heat coiling in his limbs, and he once again went limp to the purring approval rattling out of Dima's chest. It felt good, but it was also maddening, considering where, exactly, his pelvis was, and any movement at all was discouraged by yet another warning squeeze.

Svala looked up, snorted and then turned away when they returned, and somehow the horsey judgement was hilarious. Juri laughed all the way down to being dropped on his back on a blanket - Dima's - and Dima's exasperated, if warm, look, didn't discourage him. He did stop when the hand sliding in under the hem of his shirt pulled out of the waistband of his pants, however. Juri was naked before he'd even had the chance to reach out for Dima's shoulders, as much to squeeze the broad sweep of them as to encourage him to pull the shirt he still wore off, because it was in the way. Large hands stripped him with a speedy efficiency only betrayed by the slight tremble in those hands, touching nothing but fabric and still leaving Juri trembling too.

"Dima---!"

There was something they needed. Something they needed _to do_. The thought was a little distant, but very insistent. 

It also fled right out of his head when Dima pulled his hair tie out to run a hand through the resultant spill of curls. He combed through it with ardent attention, then tangled his hand in it at the base of Juri's neck and tilted his head back, leaning in until he was looming, and then there were lips on his. The kiss was half teeth, desperate insistence devouring his response and demanding more.

Juri's heart was thundering in his ears when Dima finally let go, lips tracking sideways to the base of his ear, heedless of the thin, soft fur down towards his jaw there in ways only felin ever were - humans tended to avoid sticking their mouths and tongues on the fur. Dima had no such compunction and was brushing the fine fur over the thin skin with repeated, feathery nuzzles.

Breathless, Juri arched back, clutching at Dima's shoulders and trying to figure out how to get the _shirt off of him_ when he didn't seem to have any words to demand it. Dima's other hand was around his cock, slow, tight strokes that left Juri shuddering, arching up into the touch. Blinking curls and sweat out of his eyes, Juri stared at his bags across the clearing.

Oh, that was what they needed.

"Di- _Dima_ ," groaning, he pulled on his shirt again, claws threatening to tear the fabric and almost distracted from his realization which, curiously, felt a little off for some reason, as if there was something _else_ he was forgetting. Surely it couldn't be more important than this, though, so Juri was content to leave it until after this. Much later after this. "We need--- I have oil in my bag!"

Juri shamelessly moaned in disappointment when Dima did pull back to stare down at him, blue eyes dark and intent, but hazy. Finally, Dima nodded but leaned down again, lips hot and lazy on Juri's, tipping his head back further with the simple demanding weight of the kiss. When he pulled back, Juri nipped his bottom lip, and he grinned at the pink-cheeked, hooded glare he got. How could he not do that, when Dima's lips had been kissed pinker than they usually were, and were temptingly plush now?

" _Stay_." Dima squeezed his cock in one hand, caught his wrists to squeeze them against the ground over his head with the other, and Juri's breath was stuck somewhere in the back of his throat, mouth dry.

He stayed. Dima got up, letting go like it was the last thing he wanted to do and prowled over to the bags while Juri, somehow, did stay still, only the tip of his tail twitching. It flicked back and forth while the soft, warm breeze brushed maddeningly light fingers over his overheated, sensitized skin.

"It's the small pocket at the short end," Juri said, a drawled waver in his voice, and a second later Dima's shirt flew through the air across his line of sight, to thump down on the ground on his other side. The pants were next, and then Dima finally came back, the vial small in his fingers and winking like amber in the sunlight. 

Dima paused then, staring down at Juri with eyes that, despite the bright sunlight, seemed to glow, lazy heat and intent desire pinning Juri to the ground as much as Dima's earlier order was. He stood there like he didn't have a raging erection standing proud up against his belly. Like he had all the time in the world, now that he actually _had_ Juri on the ground, if not on all fours.

The slow sweep of Dima's gaze was like a physical touch, and Juri moaned, fangs digging into his bottom lip as he squirmed, arching up but otherwise not actually moving, pressing his own hands into the ground. Dima's gaze sharpened, undoubtedly noticing it, and the smile was not kind, but there was a smoothly heated darkness in it that made Juri's cock twitch. Dima looked pleased, and that was almost all he could've asked for at the moment.

But only almost, especially with Dima so close, the air thick with his scent, his arousal. 

It was maddening, and if Dima stood there for much longer, Juri would have to take steps. For a moment, though, Juri let himself look as much as Dima was; he could do that now, after all. 

Dima had started to tan, finally, leaving the sorry state of red, peeling skin behind, which only emphasized the milky paleness of his fur and hair, the dark contrast of the stripes. Sunlight haloed him at the moment, throwing the cut of his muscles in shadow; broad chest, defined by a light curve, the solid swell of his biceps and the gentler tapering of his stomach, down towards his large cock, heavy between his strong thighs and the slow sweep of his tail behind him.

The best, though, and Juri wasn't sure why, was the fact that there was still a delicate cast of pink high on his cheeks, which had darkened as Juri stared up at him. Juri was glad for it, because it was the only proof Dima wasn't having second thoughts, wasn't, hopefully, thinking he looked too weird to actually finish this with.

"I can hear you think. Cease that _now_ ," Dima growled, the hooded darkness in his eyes turning sharper, as if he really could tell what Juri was thinking, and came forward like an avalanche. He was a curving inevitability of moonlight colours and muscles, coming to loom over Juri on his knees. The vial was dropped next to Juri's head as Dima planted both hands on each side, leaning down. This time, there was no way but to give when Dima kissed him; he was breathless and dizzy within seconds, his nerves singing as Dima licked into his mouth like he could taste his own sweet scent there, pressing Juri into the ground with the sheer force of it, even though he was barely leaning into him.

Claws ran threatening but light down Juri's sides to his hips, Dima sliding his hands under them to squeeze his ass again while he drew out of the kiss like lingering over something too expensively fine to do otherwise. Juri was torn between begging they get it on with, because every stroke was a maddening tease of just not enough, no matter how his lips now tingled, and stealing a moment of indulgence. The latter won out against both his animal need and Dima's earlier command to stay still; Juri brought his hands to Dima's shoulders, caressing down over skin and fur until he was teasing claws down Dima's chest.

He'd just reached the nipples, feeling Dima tense in anticipation as the pads of his thumbs brushed pink areola when a warning rumble rolled through Dima's chest.

"Later, kitten." He leaned down again and bit the arch of Juri's throat, wringing a gasp and his hips twitching up. "I promise you can explore all you want later. Pull in."

Pulling his legs in against himself while Dima straightened up, he let himself be flipped around in a single fluid motion, ending up on knees and arms, claws scratching up the blanket under him. Arching even further, Juri smiled smugly when he heard Dima's breath catch from the way he pushed his ass up, his tail swaying high above with fetching little flicks. The smack that followed was quite loud, Juri's ears flicking back towards the noise before he actually registered _he'd been smacked_ , pain and pleasure weaving together into an embarrassing noise that was as much offended protest as it was a moan.

" _Behave_ ," Dima growled, but underneath that was a purr, and Juri flushed from the tips of his ears all the way down to the tip of his tail and wriggled instead. The groan behind him was quiet but audible, and then a hand with steel bones and silky skin came down on his upper back, flattening out and pushing down. Juri didn't have a chance to protest as the vial was snagged back up, Dima working one-handed while he presumably coated himself and Juri tried to be patient, tried _not_ to squirm against the hand pressing down on his back, but this morning had started so unpleasantly, he was by now practically vibrating with anticipation and need.

Dima leaned forward over him, his other hand closing about his hip, and a full-body shudder went through Juri as the hard, slick head of Dima's cock pressed against his opening. The hand on his back, claws brushing through his fur, slid down and curved sideways, just enough to fit around the base of Juri's tail.

"Dim- _ah_!" It wasn't so much a gasp or even a moan as a breathless, soft warble when Dima's fingers and the ball of his thumb pressed down, rubbing around the base with ruthless efficiency. Quivering from head to toe, Juri's thighs fell open a little further, though the slight rise his knees were planted on helped. More than helped. Dima didn't have to contort himself as he pushed in, Juri relaxing around him in turn.

There was no pause, though he didn't thrust in with unforgiving force either; it was a slow, firm slide of slick heat, pressing Juri wide open. Liquid tingles ran from deep inside where Dima was filling him up, out along Juri's bobbing hardness, and up to the base of his tail and back again, sparking charge that lashed along his limbs, making them tremble. Dropping his head to the blanket, Juri pressed his forehead against it, bit his tongue and thrust back against Dima as soon as he was still, grinding the firm weight of the head more deeply inside.

Dima groaned, and the rumble of it seemed to travel all the way into Juri's chest, drawing an answering moan when Dima's hand around his tail squeezed down, not easing up until he was helplessly shuddering up into the touch, repeatedly working himself over Dima's length in quick, breathless little thrusts. The hand on his hip tightened, which was the only warning he got; Dima drew back, almost all the way out, and slammed back in, grinding against him and down on the base of his tail with his hand, and Juri knew he made _some_ sort of noise as he stiffened, shaking - he didn't come, but there was still the white-hot lash of an orgasm rushing through him, squeezing sensation and locked muscles from him.

Dima didn't move until his shaking stilled, and then he didn't stop. He fucked Juri as much as he fucked _into him_ , pushing him forward on the blanket even when Juri tried to dig his knees in and lock his arms, breath forced out every time Dima rolled his hips, pressing repeatedly against a spot that was now drawing sparks, threatening more.

There was less planned thought about anything Juri did whenever Dima thrust back in - it was more that if he tilted his hips _just so_ , he heard Dima's breath stutter, if he squeezed and pushed back at the same time, Dima's _hips_ stuttered, losing rhythm for a breathless second before he picked it back up again, somehow driving himself even deeper inside.

It couldn't last.

It didn't matter.

The hand on his hip stole under him as Dima leaned forward, a furnace of heated weight behind him, and teased claws up the underside of his cock, thumb barely brushing the spot between the head and the body while he snapped inside again, shuddering at the flexing squeeze. He tilted his hips a little further, and Juri seized around Dima. Not even those strong thighs could keep him up, then, but that, too, was alright, because that meant teeth teased against the join between Juri's neck and shoulder, and bit down.

Juri shuddered awake a little later - not long at all, he could tell, Dima's weight on him, in him, was hard and warm again, pulsing like they were sharing a heartbeat. That was nice, more than nice, because he could feel the same pulse in the aching spot near his neck, but Juri didn't feel like laying here any longer.

Very deliberately, he squeezed around the cock inside of him, much larger than the other two he'd had any experience with so far, a full, heavy weight that more than delivered what it'd promised at his first sight of it.

" _Kitten_ ," Dima hissed against his ear, and Juri, so far beyond letting any insecurity or lingering shyness stop him, laughed and repeated it, rolling his hips and enjoying the shift inside of him.

"I'm going to hold you down and take my time if you don't stop. Pity we don't have rope, and a way to anchor them, so I could have you spread eagle."

The little moan that spilled out, following the shot of liquid heat through him, surprised Juri enough he stilled, if only briefly. Was that something he should enjoy hearing? He didn't know, but Dima's dark laughter, smoothing over him like the hand down his side was, dropped the confusion by the wayside for the pleasure of the thought. He shifted forward as much as he could, rubbing the short, thick length of his own cock between the blanket and his stomach, and then forced himself backwards, squeezing deliberately.

Dima shifted back with a snarl, a hand fisting in his hair, and fucked him into the blanket again.

It lasted longer this time, turned into a war of attrition between the slow, inexorable thrusts Dima was spearing Juri with, the way he was keeping him pinned, and Juri doing his very best with anything and everything but making noise or begging, to make him speed up. Dima lost when Juri curved the tip of his tail between his legs and cradled his balls; even light, the soft brush of fur turned him into a single-minded fury of motion that only lasted long enough for them to spill again, thighs and breaths both shaking.

It took longer before they woke up for the third time, but Juri still woke up first. This time, he could even shift Dima over onto his back, and while that lost him the deep-seated satisfaction of being on hands and knees, ass in the air, it was _almost_ as good when he sat down onto Dima's cock and Dima woke up in response. 

The hands on his hips were steel, threatening to clamp down, but Juri kept his control for long enough to twist and arch, skin glowing hot under Dima's hands, his breath coming out in bare pants past where he'd buried his fangs in his bottom lip. Halfway through, Dima's hands clamped down and forced the rhythm, changing the eager, full strokes of Juri's tiring thighs into a display of the strength of Dima's arms, lifting him clear off every time, and the heat in his eyes while he watched himself disappear into Juri was as consuming as the resultant orgasm.

Collapsing on top of Dima, Juri grumbled softly when he slid back inside again, but he didn't move aside from that, so that was okay. More than okay. He wrapped his arms around Dima's neck and tangled his hands in long, pale strands, and fell asleep to the smooth rumble of Dima's purring.

Heat lasted more than just one day, of course, but it was always worst at the start. Unless you managed to put it off, then it was a nagging pressure that tended to explode to the annoyance or delight of the individual and everyone around them. It also tended to sap energy even if it didn't seem like that to start with, when there was no end to the cascading heat that bubbled up from the inside.

The whole thing, in short, often left felin distracted and out of sorts, and nothing was made better by having been up for almost a full day, riding hard, the day before.

Juri woke up to shadows covering him, the beginnings of sunset shading the sky, and the heady mix of clashing felin scents teasing his nose and along over-sensitive skin. There shouldn't be more than two scents... 

Glancing up, Juri froze, for there was a sword right in front of his nose. Dima shuddered under him, and then, somehow, flipped them without appearing to move at all, and slipping out of him so quickly Juri barely had the time to gasp at the loss. The change in position had Dima crouching above Juri, his shadow warm where it covered him. It was very hard not to curl up to try and hide further when he glanced around trying to assess the situation; he caught more than one narrowed stare, and even if Dima was covering him now, they'd all seen him. Seen what he looked like, and if they weren't judging him for _that_ , they were probably feeling sorry for Dima, since he'd clearly had no other choice but to give in to heat with a _half-breed_. 

Completely aside from all that, he really did not like being caught out like this for anyone to see, judging him or not. The snarl above him was reassuring, but they were clear across the campsite from Dima's pilfered sabre and his own knife, or, even, the flute and the whistle. They were further naked and surrounded by agitated felin wielding a lot of weapons.

A tall, broad-shouldered feli, slim like a willow and with sharp-angled features she could've challenged Dima with and won, stepped forward, her own heavy sabre loose at her side.

"That was quite an escape, but you didn't get very far, did you? If you behave, we'll even let you clean off," she said with a smile that wasn't really one, eyes lingering on Dima long enough Juri almost forgot his urge to hide his awkward looks and nakedness, wishing to make her stop. She had no _right_ \---

Dima's hand on his back stilled the growl that'd been tearing at his throat and Juri settled down with a grumble. He was hot, tense, uncomfortable and embarrassed... and despite that, thanks to the heat, there was still a background burn of arousal heating his veins.

"I suppose we have no choice," Dima said flatly, ears and tails both low and stiff, and that, really, was that.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With no recourse this time, Juri and Dima have to accept their capture, and while it comes with some surprises and some small chances for petty revenge, it does not get them free.

The only one of the three of them that was in the least bit pleased by the current events was Svala, who was very happy indeed to have other horses to be around again. Dima was mostly cursing his own foolish weakness, though every time he looked over to Juri while he was dressing, catching the way the setting sun caught in red hair and fur, gilded the soft brown of his skin, he couldn't find any actual regret. Frustration and blame at himself, as he should have managed to keep himself _and Juri_ focused on what they needed to do? Oh, enough of that to have filled the Middle Sea and more, but no regret. Not even after the initial burn of heat had now softened into a steady background glow, his nose still sensitive and his skin interpreting every light brush of breeze or cloth as something actively pleasant instead of just there, found him with any regret.

Because why should he feel regret? He'd come to peace with what he wanted, at least enough he would certainly not regret a single thing he had done or would, hopefully, still have a chance of doing with Juri. Whether that would be in the next few days or not was left to be seen, for unless they could somehow get to Juri's bags, which they had very pointedly not been allowed to go near, the answer was probably 'no'. Possibly. 

Juri was hunched up a short distance away, dressing in sharp, jerky motions and telegraphing his discomfort for all to see, even when he kept trying to still his tail or ease his ears up, and even getting dressed didn't seem to help him much. There were two armed feli between them, and Dima found it surprisingly hard to suppress the snarl that wanted to claw its way out of him. Having a heat buoyed by honest affection interrupted by cold, hard reality which included separation before he'd wanted to let go wasn't doing anything for Dima's ability to pretend his sentiment for Juri wasn't as deep as it apparently was.

_That_ was perhaps something to regret, because he wasn't sure what to do with it, how to, after this was done, deal with it. Juri was... Juri, and there was no way to deny that if he convinced him – later, not for this year, possibly not even the next one, unless he'd be fine with staying there alone - to come up north, he'd be hurt again like Dima had hurt him during this trip. Pushing those thoughts away, Dima stayed stiff and silent as the leader, accompanied by another two felin, came up with rope and made use of the cuffs he nowadays frankly forgot were around his wrists. At least this way would lead only to some awkwardness, not outright impossibility, to do things like eat and---

"Stop!" Juri's hiss was a bright, sharp slash through the warm evening air and Dima whirled around, taking several steps towards the little knot around Juri before there was enough steel in front of him he was forced to stop, growling and then swallowing it. There was nothing to do about the agitated lash of his tail, however. "You don't need to _gag me_!"

They'd tied him - if with more rope - much as Dima was, and one of the feli around him were holding him by the shoulders and head, to keep him still for the second one. They must have taken the enchanted sleep as _only_ the result of Juri, and, from that assumption, it wasn't unreasonable to gag him, since most who could create magic with music could do at least something of it while singing. It'd be useful as a distraction, if the whistle wasn't actually in one of Juri's bags where he'd shoved it while they fled on Svala earlier, intending to hide it back in his hair tie.

"No?" The leader, that slim, tall feli female, came around Dima to sneer down at Juri, "do you think we're stupid? You put us all as---"

"I _can't sing_!" The frustrated yell cracked somewhere in the middle, the angry snarl nearly incomprehensible thanks to Juri's unfortunate drawl, and comprehension replaced the disdain twisting the otherwise clear-featured face of the leader. Obviously she did not carry enough scorn that it blinded her to the honesty in Juri's reaction, compared to how he would have reacted in her place.

"Oh," she said, and the grin was smugly unpleasant, "I suppose that's all right, then."

She waved the reddish-blond feli with the gag off, then turned back to Dima, head cocked, and her tail, impressively long and smooth, at a curving angle. "Walk with me, for a bit."

It was not a request, and the weapons weren't removed, so he was obliged to do so. He managed to not look back, but he could feel Juri's stare on his back, and compared to what he might have assumed, it wasn't fearful or begging, but rather angry, and aimed at the woman beside him. He could probably be forgiven the smugly pleased swish of his tail even as he followed her over to the fire their pursuers had built, clearly intending to use their campsite for their own until morning. It wasn't the right place and time to take enjoyment from the little flashes of Juri being possessive, even if it was _probably_ mostly the heat that fuelled it enough he would show it, but Dima indulged in it anyway while he stared down at the woman in front of him.

"Yes?"

She smelled of lavender, a little too cloying for his taste, but it teased at him anyway... and only made him think of the warm, earthy scent of sun-warmed pine and resin instead.

"There's no reason to ride out the rest of summer's heat alone, now that you're not spoiled for choice," she said, leaning in a little as she spoke, and it was unmistakeable what she meant. If this had been weeks ago, a _month_ , if he hadn't already been hit over the head a few times with revelations when it came to Juri... And if he actually felt disgusted with himself for having fallen in with Juri thanks to the heat (though it would've been much, much easier to resist if he still felt nothing but distaste for Juri as a half-breed), he would surely have been moved enough by the offer to at least _consider it_.

She was pretty, honestly; slim, despite her broad shoulders, not as short as Juri, and her black fur soaked up the light, leaving her blue eyes startling against her dark skin and fur. She was certainly nothing he would have refused normally. If Juri wasn't a thing that had happened, that was, and if she literally wasn't about to bring them to Baki Ar-Tumari, because that was the only thing he could see was going on here.

"A generous offer," he said, meeting her gaze with a slight cock of his ears, voice expressionless if mild, and taking some enjoyment out of the way her vivid eyes darkened with pleasure, accompanied by a strengthening of her scent, "but I won't loose sleep from the choices I've made."

Dima didn't smirk when she hissed, just stared down at her.

" _Truly_? There's no accounting for taste, I suppose." She scoffed like she'd just eaten something rotten and turned on her foot in a neat, graceful whirl, and stomped off.

He had enough control over himself by now to _not_ show how much the separation they were enforcing between him and Juri was rankling him. Perhaps later it would be to some amusement that he hadn't been bothered the first time something like this happened... Now, though, it would have set his teeth on edge even if they weren't practically soaked in all the hormones heat produced; it just made the sharp need inside to do something about it a lot harder to ignore and further harder to hide. Especially so the few scattered times Juri did look over, though he looked rather impressively put together. The stiff tilt to his ears and the pinch around his mouth betrayed how uncomfortable he was, though. Something that certainly wasn't eased when the feli who brought Juri his food, leaned in with a smirk that was only _mostly_ mocking and clearly breathed in his scent.

Not that the mocking was acceptable on its own, but Dima could further see there was an edge of real interest underneath, and even if that was probably just fuelled by the heat, it still left him having to squash a growl as he awkwardly tried to eat with his hands tied together, only just enough give to make it possible.

"So, why don't you show us if you can dance with your tails and ears out, _too_?" Laughter sprang up around them, and Juri was now glaring at the ground, ears pinned back. His silence was clearly not a deterrence, the feli leaning in further. Dima had to wrap his tail around his ankle for a moment to keep it from lashing, because there was now a broad hand on Juri's knee, though it was pulled away a moment later, as if the feli realized he'd put it somewhere he didn't _actually_ want to put it. This did explain where, exactly, they'd figured things out, even if they must have suspected enough to have them followed before that. "I'm sure Ziba would let us untie you for that, since you can't _dance_ magic."

Juri hissed and refused to even look at him as he hunched up further over his bowl. "Fuck off."

It was, as always, a surprise to hear a genuine curse from Juri, though a far milder one than he'd levied at the slave catcher. Less because of how little he cursed in general and more because of his usually genial personality. Jeering filled the campsite until their leader - Ziba, apparently - yelled at everyone to shut up. The tension still remained like a pot just about to break out into boiling, though that was to be expected. Dima suspected the whole group must simply have taken the immediate edge of the heat off to catch up with them like they had, especially without the aid of the compass. It'd be a pretty miserable night for the ones who'd have to take first watch and listen to everyone who _wasn't_ standing guard give in to the need crawling under their skin.

He would, honestly, have been fine not getting any further chance to ease the itch that, partway through the evening, left him constantly half-hard and with inconvenient, teasing shudders at every little breeze or angling himself wrong. He could survive that. It didn't stop him later while sitting in the little tent he'd been shoved into, eyes half-closed and just barely resisting the urge to go through the effort of getting himself free, imagining Juri dancing, since that feli had so (in)conveniently brought it up.

Not dressed, this time. Not even in the fetching silks Ar-Alhana had put him in. No, naked would be best - the ridiculous half-measure of his spots of fur would be left to highlight the way he moved, with firelight catching on and gilding his skin.

(What were the odds of making a successful escape attempt at this point, getting Juri as well as the bags? Not enough to make the attempt worth it, so he'd have to think of something else.)

It wouldn't even matter if he couldn't touch himself or Juri, if he had the chance of seeing him dance, _properly_. He could probably come from that alone, with the right effort from Juri, who would probably enjoy the challenge---

It took a second or two to realize the tent flaps having moved had actually happened, and that Juri really _was_ kneeling on the floor just inside them, having had to catch himself with nothing but his own balance and knees, since he'd got his arms tied behind his _back_ since Dima last saw him. A pretty secure way to make sure they probably wouldn't be able to untie each other without it being noticed.

"... I'm surprised to see you in here," he said, and didn't bother to do anything about the way his voice dropped, deep enough Juri shuddered, his skin turning ruddy enough he could see it, even in the muted light in the tent, the fire outside still lit.

"Me too," Juri muttered, licking his lips and glancing around - gaze very obviously sticking on the shadows of their guards outside, his back as stiff as his ears and tail, but he was still leaning towards Dima. With too much space between them. Far too much space.

"Come here." Unfolding his legs where he'd had them crossed, he stretched them out and gestured to his lap. Juri shifted forward and then stopped, grimacing, brown skin turning dusky again.

"But---"

"We'd not do anything they're not already having to listen to," Dima said and smirked at Juri, "besides, you can get back at them, this way."

Juri stared at him, confused for a moment, then snorted, soft, reluctant laughter spilling out. The half-breed getting something they weren't, being half of the reason why they _couldn't_ immediately satisfy their own urges. Petty, perhaps, but didn't they all deserve it?

"I don't know, Dima..." But Juri still shuffled over and seated himself on his thighs, the shift of his muscles obvious even through his pants, and his ears perked forwards again, even if they kept flicking back towards the entrance. "Besides, shouldn't we figure out---nff."

He kissed him silent, and as there was no way to easily stroke any part of Juri at all, Dima let his mouth do it, ending near Juri's ear, "Leave me to think about it. There's nothing to be done right now anyway, so why not do what we actually want to do?"

"Because they'd _know_ ," Juri hissed, flustered and awkward even as he was swaying into him, and Dima shook his head, hands dropping to Juri's lap and brushing what was definitely more than just heat-driven half-hardness. Juri bit his lip and tilted his hips into the bare brush of his fingers, before he stiffened as he caught himself again.

"Know you're getting something they aren't at the moment. I can see you thinking about it."

Juri blushed, but the glance he threw over his shoulder was more considering this time, and when he looked back, he shifted a little closer and leaned in to kiss Dima, heated and slow and altogether willing. "This is going to be awkward."

"I have full faith in your balance and grace, kitten," Dima said with a grin, and it was a reward nearly as good as the actual sex would be, to see Juri light up, his tail sweeping jauntily even as he ducked his head, as pleased as he was flustered.

Not to say it wasn't awkward to even get themselves free enough to do what they wanted, and it took more care and effort to let Juri's insides relax around him so this wouldn't end in tears. Heat helped, of course, but it was certainly not a cure all; as hot and tight as Juri was, he was certainly not a woman. He still opened up to him, face contorted somewhere between discomfort and flushed pleasure, thighs trembling as he slowly sank down. His tail kept moving behind him, compensating for the arms he couldn't use, and the only thing that marred this was that Juri was wearing his clothes still, because Dima was sure the ropes would've looked very enticing against his bare skin.

There other thing that marred this was that the didn't have enough leverage to thrust the way he was sitting, and that rankled. Normally, this would have been part of the charm, certainly, watching Juri twist and bob over him, but right now, oh, it strained the needs and desires made deeper and more feral by heat to not be able to drive this. It crawled under his skin, an unpleasant counterpoint to the hot, shuddering tightness clutching at him every time Juri slid down, and Dima briefly wondered if he hadn't played himself. If this wasn't why Ziba - because it wouldn't be anyone else to allow this - had let Juri in here. As much as his body was enjoying what was happening, his mind was tilting sideways into discomfort that scattered his attention and almost made him want to shuffle away.

" _Dima_ ," Juri's breathless huff was stern enough it silenced his embarrassing display of distress purring, and his intended response was further forced silent when Juri thumped down and _squeezed_ around him, wringing what was more of an awkward rocking motion than any true movement, and that too, needled. Juri's eyes were lambent in the muted, backlit glow from the fire through the canvas of the tent, and he shook his head, curls bounding about him. The slope of his nose seemed to emphasize the twist of his lips, kissed dark and soft. "What do _want_?"

Dima blinked, the question worming itself past building discomfort, and out came a breathless chuckle as he leaned in, the kiss sloppy.

"You are a gift, kitten."

"Well, _someone's_ gotta think around here!" Juri's smile against his lips was tilted, and Dima wiped it out with another kiss until he felt like he had enough brain to voice his need.

"Slower. Lean back a little, and arch your back." That was a lot to demand when Juri couldn't use his arms, but, past a slightly exasperated look, he _did_ , and the change on his face when he slid back down again and hit his prostrate right on was a revelation in itself. 

That Dima had put that look there with nothing more than a couple words unspooled the tension that'd been gathering and evaporated the agitated buzz in the back of his head. It was easy, after that. Quiet, whispered words and Juri bending to meet him, his breath soon coming in short pants, matching his own, sweat high on his forehead and a fine tremble running through him as he moved, flexing around Dima's cock with no thought but _need_ , desperate to speed up but not doing so.

Because he hadn't been told to.

" _Dima_ \---" There was a warble at the end of that, and Dima caught the shadows outside the tent shift. He didn't have the attention to spare a smirk, not with the way Juri was twisting, just a little, tense from head to toe. Feeling hot and liquid, he twisted his bound hands until he could curve a couple fingers around Juri's short cock, glistening slick with his own thwarted need.

"Fuck yourself on me, kitten."

The shadows outside shifted again, the tent was swamped in the mingled scents of pine and vanilla, and Juri shuddered, some noise caught in the back of his throat, and obeyed. It didn't take long until Juri collapsed against him, coming over his hand while he stiffened around him, impossibly open for the length spearing him and yet clutching down like he wanted to keep it in there. Dima followed and let himself fall back against the ground, stabilizing Juri when he fell on top of him and completely ignoring the cooling mess that was left. Not much else they could do about it.

"This... is going to be awkward," Juri mumbled after a short silence, but there was nothing but sated softness in his hooded eyes when he looked up and met Dima's gaze, and he smiled, using his tail instead of his hands to brush Juri's cheek.

"It'll work out."

He didn't only mean sleeping like this; he would figure something out as well, though of course any plans he could make like this would be highly contingent on luck. He _hated_ relying on luck, but currently there was little else to do. 

It would have been one thing if all he needed was to take Juri with him, but that _wasn't_ all they needed to leave with. Letting Ar-Tumari get back the Fortune Juri had stolen from him was no better. If it had been only their own two bodies they'd been aiming to escape with, it wouldn't have been easy anyway, which had much less to do with being nearly constantly tied up and the number of people around them as the continued distance they were kept at. After that first night, while they were put on the same horse during the day - and at least Svala was always happy enough to see them, every morning - he had no idea which tent Juri disappeared into for the nights.

The only thing that was reassuring about that was that Juri smelled of nothing but himself every morning, and there was only suppressed but obvious mulish frustration etching his body and face. Of course, he also smelled of near-constant arousal, but that was to be expected, and while it was half of a torture to have Juri sitting in front of him for hours every day and be able to do nothing about it either then or later, they'd burned off enough early on it was not maddening. 

In fact, it honestly also helped. As frustrating as it was to have that lithe body pressed against him, it was a reassurance of where Juri was, and while his scent tangled together with his own arousal and kept it fanned, it soothed other parts that got equally agitated by the heat.

Distraction was in short supply, but bending down so he could whisper more and more outrageous and pettily mocking stories about their captors in Juri's ear brought some satisfaction. Even more so whenever he won over Juri's self-control and innate kindness to make him laugh. It also served another function, for while the felin closest to them had paid attention during the first few days, even the most diligent guard would soon have tired of listening to themselves being described in the ways he was amusing both himself and Juri with.

Dima still waited with actually using that inattention, but nothing he could come up with as the days passed seemed much better than a chance, and slim such, too. Having almost two weeks to think about it, the heat fading from throbbing need to dull burn and then to nothing during the first week, did not change anything. They simply had too little to work with. If Juri _had_ been able to use his voice, it would have been another thing, especially if they would have been able to convince their captors he couldn't, to keep it in reserve. That wasn't the case.

"Juri," Dima murmured, interrupting himself in the middle of what had been a rather crude supposition of the escapades two members of this band surely had gotten up to trying to relieve their heat while forced to stand guard, and Juri's delicately pointed ear twitched, almost brushing his lips, "I'm going to wait until the last possible moment, then aim to cause a distraction to let you run. You will need to find the throne room, and hope the Shahn is present."

Juri had, predictably, stiffened when he'd said he'd attempt to give him a chance to run, but he wisely kept quiet, which also meant the building tension in his shoulders eased as Dima continued his explanation. Ignoring that, he drooped a little more so he could rest his chin against the side of Juri's head. Not the most comfortable position, but he didn't care.

"Tell her her brother is planning a coup. Even if you can't get inside the throne room, the guards outside have a greater chance of not being Baki's men, so telling _them_ may get the Shahn's attention if they are even halfway competent."

"Why would she even believe me?" Despite the incredulous tension in Juri's voice, Dima could see he was still, if not _honestly_ , smiling, as if he was still listening to the mocking and inconsequential rudeness Dima had been feeding him for more than a week now. Juri was still a bad liar, but give him a chance to prepare and he was a decent actor.

"If she isn't completely oblivious, she ought to suspect it. And if she does not... having a tied up feli rushing into her throne room shouting about conspiracy ought to get her attention at least."

"And if it doesn't work..." Juri didn't finish, just nodded. There was now new tension in his back where it was pressed against Dima's chest, and while he was pleased Juri understood what might happen and knew they were riding mostly on chance and accepted it, he didn't like it. So, while he wasn't about to kiss Juri, even as awkwardly as their positions would allow, in front of these felin, he buried his nose in the thick curls as a substitute. Juri's hair was looking rather tired and sad by now, but that was easily ignored as he found the spot at the upper base of the ear that left Juri liquid against him, and his nose full of the warm scent that outside of heat only almost smelled of pine.

"If it doesn't, I will think of something else."

Juri just snorted in response to that, and the small smile Dima could see was tensely lopsided, but he said nothing about how that was most likely empty reassurance. If it didn't work, Juri stood a great risk of being dead, and he... well, he wouldn't be dead immediately, but soon enough. As soon as he'd told Ar-Tumari what he wanted to know, that was. Dima was reasonably sure, since it seemed obvious the Shahnza knew what the Fortune of Spring was, that he _also_ didn't know how to activate it. Dima had, unwittingly, practically hand-delivered what Baki Ar-Tumari probably thought was a way to find out how to use the Fortune.

If it got that far, he would be sorely mistaken, even if it wasn't even the sort of Fortune he must be thinking it was. One could hardly handily overthrow one's sister with an enchanted item that didn't give the wielder impressive firepower, but rather a shield. Something he would not be telling Ar-Tumari until it was expedient to do so.

It still didn't change the fact that Dima sorely wished he had a better plan, something with even an ounce more certainty of success. It was a feeling that only strengthened as it became obvious they were closing in on Shidesh, both by the greater flow of people on the broad, well-tended road, and the number of soldiers patrolling it. The last probably to Ziba's great annoyance, since she'd waved off more than one soldier who'd clearly recognized them, and even with clearly having something to make the soldiers back off every time, it was always with a sneering fight from the humans. Dima could for once not muster any offence at feli being treated as less by humans.

She did surprise him, however, when he was led to her tent on what he was pretty sure was the last night before they'd reach Shidesh, and the offer presented _wasn't_ to her own immediate gratification in any way. They stared at each other for several silent moments at first, until she huffed loudly, ears briefly pinning back. Dima cocked his head and arched an eyebrow.

"I would not normally endanger my people, but you..." She looked him over, then away, the tip of her tail twitching while she laid a hand over her heart with far more flair than was quite necessary. "Handing someone like _you_ over to Shahnza Ar-Tumari would be no better than leaving my own in his hands. I'm willing to let you leave, and I can tell him you got away and we're still looking for you."

She was serious. Dima could tell that much, and some part of him was... flattered, perhaps. Smugly pleased, a little. It was an offer that was only half as attractive as it would have been at the beginning of this journey, however.

"And if I'd want to look through our bags before that?" Would he be tempted, just a little, if the answer was yes? Yes. He would be. But the odds that he would be allowed to take anything that wasn't obviously food, clothes or what little money Juri had left was thoroughly improbable, so in the end the question was mostly for show. The way she turned, fabric swirling around her and flung her hands out was answer enough, but of course that wasn't all.

"I'm supposed to hand _everything_ over to him, and I would already be risking a lot by allowing you to go, so no! Take the offer as-is and leave, or stay." Whether she was hoping he really would or was offering this as a way to assuage her own feelings about handing over someone she didn't think ought to be in the hands of a human, Dima couldn't tell. It didn't matter, in the end.

"Then no."

"Does a _half-breed_ mean that much to you!?" She turned, now, another sharp swirl of fabric about her, crossing her arms over her chest with tightly leashed anger and drama both. Dima snorted and shook his head, twinned feelings of defensiveness and protective anger fighting it out in the face of that judgement. He ran them both down and tucked them away, because there was a third angle he could use instead of acknowledging how much Juri meant _or_ having to deal with the shame that'd come with having it pointed out that Juri was, still, a half-breed and what others might think of that.

"It has nothing to do with Juri," he said, and more bared his teeth than smiled when Ziba looked over her shoulder at him, an incredulous scrunch to her face, "what hold does Ar-Tumari have on you that you'd hand over other feli to a human?"

She twitched - though it looked more like she'd been stabbed with an actual weapon, since this woman seemed so wound up in her own drama everything needed to be exaggerated - and flushed, but it was instantly replaced by cold, frustrated fury. She slowly turned back around, but was staring narrowly at one of the tent's walls, not Dima.

"We were all scheduled to be executed or sold into slavery for various crimes," she said, and she said 'crimes' like they were achievements, a little smile on her face and her vivid eyes sparkling in the light from the oil lamp hanging in the middle of the tent, "part of my group is held elsewhere, and when he released me and the ones I have with me, the deal was to capture you and everything you were carrying and bring it to him in return for pardon for the ones not yet freed."

Simple and effective, since by the point where Ar-Tumari had let Ziba and the part of her people he'd been holding - probably in the fort, actually - go, there wouldn't really have been any reason for them to have gone along with it without incentive. Incentive like saving the rest of their group. There was no way to compete with that, not any more than he was already doing, and that she was willing to offer this much, then... It brought, again, a sliver of pleasure, but it hardly held much sway.

"I should hope for your people's sake that Ar-Tumari keeps his promises, then."

She could hear the refusal of her offer, and there was no pretense to the way she slumped, clearly relieved. She also shot him a dark-eyed look of reproach, just as clearly unable not to regret the choice he'd made despite that it would serve her better. She shook her head and flung her hands out to wave him away, and while the gesture was insulting, he went, for lack of any other option. What was left was hoping his bare scraps of a plan would work, relying partially on Juri's speed and reflexes and partially on their lack of acting out and the humans' probable overconfidence. 

It wasn't much. It was really nothing, but with nothing else to use, it was what they had.

He could not say he wasn't both surprised and, maybe, just a tiny bit grateful when he'd barely gotten back to the tent and Juri was pushed in after him, looking confused but relieved to see him.

"Dima..?"

Shaking his head, he gestured Juri closer with both hands, since there was nothing else to do there, either, and waited until he'd shuffled close and sat down next to him. At least this time he wasn't tied up any further than he was during the day, so he ought to be no more uncomfortable than then either, but his wrists were starting to look worse for wear, even when the ropes were not so tight they were cutting off circulation.

"Just take it for what it is," Dima said quietly, curving his tail around Juri's back and thigh in lieu of being able to draw him closer against him with an arm, "we're going to reach Shidesh tomorrow."

"Right." Juri didn't ask him how he knew, just grimaced, nodded, and slumped against him with a sigh, turning his face so he could hide half of it against Dima's shoulder. It was, Dima realized as he stared down at the crown of drooping auburn curls, the first open, if silent, search for comfort Juri had allowed himself since they'd gotten captured. It seemed all the more a shame he could do absolutely nothing more than tighten the curve of his tail around Juri's thigh in response.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a plan, such as it is, and they follow it to the best of their ability while Baki is back and tries to get what _he_ wants.

Shidesh sat in the middle of a valley, at the eastern bank of a shallow river that nonetheless persisted year round, aside from during droughts. The city rose above the valley like a crown on the brow of a ruler, for it was built up out of five octagonal terraces, gleaming in the sun. It also wasn't as old as it pretended to be, though the houses spreading out from the edges of the walls of the lowest terrace and up and down the river bank like a herd of cattle helped serve the illusion. A city like Shidesh, though, didn't get built without far more planning than really old cities ever got.

It didn't make it any less intimidating, especially as a destination one hadn't chosen. It looked as interesting to visit as Kushrrata had been, even from a distance, but Juri rather wished they wouldn't get any closer than this, watching it from down the road and still a fair distance away from even the first scattered houses that marked Shidesh's outer sprawl. Despite the cold flutter in his gut, Juri kept himself in check and didn't look back to Dima every minute. He wanted to, but he _would not_ , because unless the plan - as much as it was a plan at all - changed, they were still far off from when Dima was planning on trying to cause enough of a ruckus to hopefully allow Juri a chance to slip away.

Sitting docilely on Svala as they came closer and closer to the city, however, soon had Juri tense from the tip of his ears all the way down to his toes, and Dima's hands at the small of his back weren't helping. This was a new experience, and he couldn't help but think if he'd had some way to use his magic without an instrument, even just something, a single spell, this might not have happened. What if he'd had a way to use something similar to Dima's enchanted whistle? He could play a version of that, now, but what good was that if he didn't have his flute? It wasn't like this was something he would ever have known to prepare for, he knew; these things _normally didn't happen to him_! What magic he knew was to make things easier or entertain, that was all. That didn't mean, however, that more offensive need might not get necessary again, if he survived this. 

Silently, Juri decided he would see if he couldn't learn a simple thing or two by whistling. Whistling, he could do, but he wasn't exceptional at it... but if he trained, and then focused on just one or two things, then maybe. It'd be a good thing to hold in reserve, at least.

Again, if he survived.

His stomach a hard, cold knot in his gut, Juri still looked around as they reached the first buildings, a mix of workshops, warehouses and the sort of simple, small houses only very poor people in cities had to make do with. It made the initial impression something of a depressive-but-industrious mix, contrasted with the polished walls of Shidesh's terraces. They reached the ramp leading up towards the first terrace not even halfway through the outer sprawl, where the neat cobbles were replaced by huge flagstones, and the ramp was broad enough to allow several carriages up it side-by-side at once.

It was impressive, and the green-tiled gates presiding over the entrance and emblazoned with the sigils for Maras and Aphrassa again, were too. Juri would have appreciated it all more if the situation was different. Very, very different. As it was, he barely saw the houses, smaller and more huddled on the lower level and growing larger the higher up they rode, or the gardens, as they passed at least one on every terrace, mostly bloomed over but still smelling green in the late summer heat. They broke off from the broad boulevard leading straight towards the palace on the fifth terrace, and veered off it onto a smaller road, shaded by trellises covered in roses. The scent was nearly strangling them as they rode under the red, pink and white blossoms until they came to a smaller door set into the wall that protected the palace and Ziba gestured them to halt. She dismounted and walked up to the door, which had no guards on the outside of it, but it was still clearly guarded when a small hatch was opened for Ziba to talk through.

"I'm here with a delivery for the Shahnza," Ziba said, for once quiet and tightly controlled, lacking any of her usual expansive gestures or vibrant voice - it was almost a little unsettling, how small she seemed then, despite that she was of rather average height.

It didn't take long for the door to open after that, Ziba leaving most of her own people behind - the only one who came with them was a tall, broad-shouldered feli nearly creamy in colour, his skin pale enough it was clear he, or at least one of his parents, must have come from Spears' Rest, and he followed by her shoulder like she was royalty in need of the protection. In some ways, she probably did, even if she and her feli were, however tenuously, protected by whatever order must be allowing them to ride mostly unmolested.

So it was Juri, Dima, Ziba and her companion, plus five well-armed and armoured soldiers that continued on. Behind the door was another garden with more roses and a couple of fountains, spraying them with tantalising coolness for a couple steps before they left each behind. The corridors were at first utilitarian but still rich, then slowly grew more and more decorated, mosaics and painted or gilded stucco and carving decorating floor, walls and ceilings. It was certainly stunning, but any desire Juri might have had to admire it was firmly squashed underneath nauseous tension and a creeping sullenness about what humans set themselves up with, often at the expense of felin lives.

The deeper into the palace they walked, the more often Juri glanced to Dima, even if he tried not to. Luckily it wasn't that obvious, since Dima was walking in front of him, but it felt like every single glance he shot at the broad back and the seemingly-relaxed slope of Dima's wide shoulders after he'd thrown another look at the corridors they were walking through must surely be obvious enough _someone_ would notice. 

Juri wasn't sure if he was relieved or annoyed that no one actually did seem to notice.

Tense and wound up and his tail practically lashing behind him no matter his best attempts at squashing his emotions and imitating Dima's self-possessed control, Juri almost missed when they slowed down a little, almost missed that the corridor they were walking down along ended not in another intersection or a corner, but a pair of broad doors. Almost missed the slight tension that stiffened the angle of Dima's ears, but as he was looking straight at them when they shivered with the flex of muscles, that was his warning.

It was the only warning anyone got before Dima threw himself sideways, slamming into one of the guards and bringing them both down to the floor in a clatter of armour and weapons. Dima didn't stay there, didn't even straighten up, which kept him from running into any of the halberds being lowered; rather he simply rolled forward and took down another guard that way, twisting around on his feet.

Juri barely saw past the first guard he brought down, because he wasn't stupid enough to wait for a shout to send him running. Over the shouts and noise, he inched backwards a step, two, then twisted around Ziba and _ran_ , lifting his hands up to awkwardly attempt to gnaw at the ropes around his wrists.

He could hear one set of footsteps behind him, and there'd definitely been guards outside the doors of this corridor. They'd probably be surprised enough he could just dart past them, but relying on that wasn't something he wanted to do. 

That meant he needed another way out. 

A warm, faint breeze tickling his clammy cheeks drew Juri's attention sideways, reminding him this corridor was less a corridor and more like a gallery, with floor-to-ceiling windows open to whatever feeble breeze could ease the heat.

There was greenery visible just at the bottom edges of the windows, and Juri leaped sideways, landed on the window frame, and jumped off, a hand brushing the tip of his tail but failing to grab it.

Flying across open air, Juri almost speared himself on a couple branches, but twisting sideways he managed to grasp one, slowing his descent though he still thumped down on another couple branches with bone-rattling force. He didn't let himself come to a stop; he just twisted around, half eeling, half awkwardly climbing down towards the ground, glancing up the way he'd come.

There was a balcony a floor below the gallery which he could've landed on, which the guard following him was using, looking furious. Juri still smirked up at him and reached the well-manicured lawn before the guard had even reached the stairs that led down into the garden.

Not looking back again, Juri ran off, past the startled gasp of a gaggle of young human women in jewel-toned veils and covered in flashing drapes and ropes of gold on top of their veils and over their shoulders and down over covered chests. He went through the glass doors open behind them, past very startled guards, certainly not listening to the bellow of the guard focused on chasing him, telling them to _stop him_.

He couldn't think about that. If he did, he was going to get distracted by _what if they catch me before I can reach the throne room_ , or _what if the Shahn isn't there_ , or _what if she doesn't listen, if she is?_. And he couldn't think like that. So Juri ran, taking quick, tearing bites out of the ropes around his wrists, pulling out fibers with every bite, ever closer to having his hands free. His heart was thundering in his ears and throat, the beat of it thudding through his limbs, a shiver of a threat for every near stumble or skid, and ignored everyone he was running past.

Because if he didn't, he might hesitate, might worry about any of them catching him.

He couldn't think about that either.

He dodged around a servant carrying linen, a couple well-dressed nobles or functionaries of some sort, ignoring the yelling when he accidentally bumped one of them and they dropped a stack of paper. Careened around a corner, out into a wider corridor, found more people.

(Don't think about it, just _run_.)

Crossed the corridor instead of running along down it, through the gallery separating that corridor from another, and he had no idea where he was. How was he supposed to know where to go? He could, at least, finally yank his hands apart and the frayed rope gave, scattering around him and then left behind.

_Where_ was the damn throne room!?

Everything was big and decorated and open, and it all looked important.

Juri slid through another pillared gallery and into an open court with brightly clad and richly decorated people gathered in groups all over, and he almost missed the tiered dais in the middle of the room, two fountains on each side of it and a heavy baldaquin embroidered with gold and silver thread above the wide, shallow seat, almost couch like, under it.

Almost missed the short, heavyset woman seated on it with all these other people around.

Almost, but not entirely, not with the clattering riot suddenly more desperate behind him, and Juri wheeled around to look over toward the center of the open space, caught all the decorations, the guards standing in a half-ring about the dais, the woman on top of it, veiled and distant. Not distant enough not to hear him, however.

"Your brother is trying to overthrow y---gh!" It was the slim end of a halberd that brought him to the floor, breath punched out of him while the pain spread out in a fractal flare of ice-and-fire under the bottom of his left shoulder blade and that was it then. It didn't stop him from attempting to roll away from it, gasping when the spear end sank in a little more, making him shudder and he _really_ didn't want to die---

"Stop this _instant_!" The shahn's voice rang out like a bell, but the guard didn't seem inclined to listen. He didn't need to, however, because Dima had been correct; at least _enough_ guards, if not all of them, in the throne room were firmly the shahn's men, and one of them drove the halberd-wielder away, fighting him down to the floor and forcing him to remain there. The wound on his back burned, and there was hot-then-cooling wetness spreading like a clinging film that stuck the fabric of his shirt to his back, but Juri couldn't even bring himself to care, he was just so damn relieved the halberd hadn't bitten very deep in the end.

Fabric in his vision was his only warning before he was pulled upright, flinching, but the grip was even, and, while it certainly kept him in place after he got his feet under him, the hands were as supportive as they were restrictive.

"And your proof for such a claim?" The shahn had dark eyes, large and usually probably soft, but at the moment they were cold and flat, her small, generous mouth in an equally flat line. The heavily embroidered veil emphasized the drawn expression, and the hands she'd planted on her hips made her seem larger than she was, though she was shorter than Juri was. Something aching every time he took a breath, Juri still did his best not to stand there gasping like a landed fish. Instead he straightened up as much as he could and dipped his head.

"He had an enchanted item in the fort near the wasteland that came from a feli people, he thinks he can use it to overthrow you and have been chasing me and my, uh, my companion, after I left the fort with it."

She stared at him, arching an eyebrow.

"You would confess to be a thief, while accusing my brother of treason?"

"Well, if it might help convince you, sure," he said, only a little brighter and lighter than he truly felt, the smile strained, but immediately added, "it also _doesn't belong to him_. It belongs to the people who made it!" Juri was surprised to hear how strident the last two sentences sounded, though it also winded him. He wasn't sure he was doing a good job of convincing her, with the way she was staring at him.

"... You have an idea of where he is?" It did not exactly sound like belief, but it was a question he could answer, somewhat anyway, and Juri nodded, then grimaced.

"Maybe not... exactly, this is the first time I'm here, but the room was at the end of a gallery, a floor above a garden with a balcony on its east side, a set of stairs leading down into it---"

"I know where that is. Captain, gather a handful of soldiers and come with me," the shahn said, glancing to the stately man beside her, and Juri slumped a little, the blood on his back sticky and cold by now. He just hoped this wouldn't be ending with the shahn taking the Fortune, because he didn't actually think that was a good idea _either_ , whether or not she was honestly believing him or simply coldly practical enough to plan for eventualities.

As they marched off, Juri hoped Dima was all right.

***  
There were four people either on or around him, knees and hands and weapons, but only when he was sure the fifth wasn't immediately returning with a captive, did Dima let himself relax against the floor. As he was half yanked, half clambered up to his feet under his own power, he met Ziba's stare across the corridor. She tilted her head and looked away, and the fact that both her and her companion were still standing there was a small concession. They could both have gone after Juri, but they hadn't. They had fulfilled their part of the deal to bring the two of them here, so the rest was Baki's responsibility, wasn't it?

They all shuffled inside the room with weapons still pointed at Dima, the guards tense and muttering curses, but he had no reason now (yet) to try anything again. The room was a well-appointed study, though the pearl of it was definitely the plushly pillowed window seat, from which Shanhza Baki Ar-Tumari rose with an expression that, while it'd started out pleased, narrowed.

"I'm missing one," he said, gaze sweeping through the small crowd even as one of the guards broke away from keeping Dima at halberd-point and put Juri's bags on the desk off to the side from where Ar-Tumari stood. The man still hovering right by Dima, sword in one hand and a frankly rather laughable attempt at restraining hand on Dima's elbow, gritted his teeth.

"There was a small... commotion, just before we arrived. We're chasing him down, now. He won't get far, not running around the palace."

Juri didn't need to get far, just far _enough_. And then to be believed, which was admittedly the larger hurdle.

Ar-Tumari scowled, then shook his head and smiled thinly up at Dima.

"So here we are again," he said, speaking slowly enough it'd have been an insult even if he _hadn't_ been able to understand, and even if he'd been intending to answer the man. Dima had only snorted softly before Ziba stepped up, hands on her narrow hips and mouth in a thin line, tail tensely flicking behind her.

"I want my pardon, Shanhza."

He stared at her silently with his lips pursed, the beard a neat, dark shadow around his mouth, then turned around for his desk and the bags on top of it.

"Only if your part of the deal has actually been upheld." The contempt was heavy and easily read, and Ziba did nothing to hide her offended bristle, with her companion faring only slightly better, though he had a soothing hand on her shoulder. Baki went through the bags with more decorum than Ar-Alhana had, but he found the wrapped Fortune just as easily in the end, making a soft noise of content when he drew the bundle up out of the bag and unwrapped it. It sparkled in the light falling in from the open window, the amber and topazes burning points of crystallized flame over the lacy ivory, and the inner golden layer of the shell seemed to make the ivory glow from within. Dima glanced to Ziba and her companion, but while they were looking at the Fortune of Spring with interest, there was no recognition.

"I suppose you _have_ fulfilled your part," Ar-Tumari allowed with a shake of his head, as if it was a pity to be lamented despite that it'd given him what he wanted. He did go around the desk then, opened a drawer, and pulled out a heavy, folded piece of parchment, despite the apparent complaint. 

He didn't give the pardon to Ziba himself, of course, instead he waved a young boy who'd been standing quietly in a corner forward and gave him the parchment, then waved him over towards the two felin. Ziba took it with a snappy jerk of her hand, though she unfolded it carefully and read through it with clear effort but just as much firm attention anyone would have expected of a fully learned scribe. Folding it again, she gave it to her companion and bowed - no more or less than might have been expected, and the motion was stiff, but she bowed.

"None can say you do not keep your word, Shanhza," Ziba said, subdued, and then the two of them left, though the glance she threw Dima as she passed was dark-eyed, either with regret or hope that he might somehow show the human up. Dima didn't linger on that, just watched Baki as he put the Fortune down on the desk, stroking the gem-studded surface with a possessive reverence that was grotesque. It didn't belong to _him_. Dima kept himself still and contained, though one ear refused to obey him and stayed turned back towards the door, alert for any noise that might signal Juri being dragged back by the guard who'd been pursuing him.

Nothing such immediately happened, much to his relief, but tension was cold around his spine and Dima could not help but bristling, just a little, when Ar-Tumari gently patted the egg-shaped Fortune again, turning his dark eyes up to him.

"I think we'd both like to keep this civilized, so if you show me how to activate this thing _before_ my men come back with your companion..."

Was there somehow some aura around him, a sign he couldn't see, that told certain people that implicitly or explicitly threatening Juri would give them what they wanted? Dima found himself rather offended, because he knew he had better control over his expressions than what this behaviour he had been faced with multiple times now implied, and just slowly shook his head as he stared down at the human.

Delay.

That was all he could do at the moment, so it didn't actually matter what threats Ar-Tumari voiced or if he did or didn't give in to them. It would hopefully not come to any actualization of such threats.

"Have it your way," Ar-Tumari said, another thin, almost disappointed-seeming smile in the shadow of his beard, "in the end, even if that half-breed _somehow_ manages to disappear into the bowels of the palace for long enough to lose pursuit, I'll have the secret from you either way."

Oh, he knew that. That was what would have happened had Juri not found him, after all. It was what the treatment all up through the journey from Shidesh to the fort had been about as well, but if Baki had honestly thought such half-hearted means would truly leave much of an impression on Dima and save him more concerted effort, he had hopefully been disappointed not even halfway through the journey. Dima arched his eyebrow silently, flicking his tail dismissively.

"So self-assured." Baki settled with his back against the desk, the Fortune hefted in one hand. "You understand you're going to be the cause of a lot of pain for both yourself and your companion? I was only going to keep him for his musical skill. With a teacher, he would have blossomed."

Was it funny or exasperating both Baki and Ar-Alhana was taking similar tack, but with very different goals in mind? Dima was rather sure the shanhza didn't even have the same insight Ar-Alhana had, in whether or not he _actually_ cared for Juri, and was merely using him because he was feli, because they had been travelling with each other for two months and change by now, because he was small and apparently soft (so very soft). Did Ar-Tumari really think he didn't understand without it being said that he intended to torture Juri in front of Dima, that _shaming him_ into giving in before he so much as put a finger on Juri was the solution to get what he wanted?

Admittedly, at this point, if nothing went their way at all, it might be. He wouldn't give Ar-Tumari the satisfaction of reacting to it, though. Compared to Ar-Alhana's threat, the time constraints were different and it would serve him better to drag things out as much as he could. Dima stared down into the heavyset face and smiled thinly, flicking his tail and ears once.

How far would Juri have come, by now? How long would it take him to find the throne room, if he could? Dima didn't necessarily mind relying on others, but with so much out of both his and Juri's hands, everything relying more on luck than any real skill, there was cold squeezed around his heart, and he was tenser than he would like to admit. 

Juri was capable and he was fast, but he was also clearly not used to situations like these past two months had put him in, and if he could have, Dima would have done this himself. Expecting someone who was often half a head shorter than most of the people around him and not combat trained to try and be an effective distraction wouldn't have been the way to succeed, however. Further, with Ar-Tumari smiling darkly up at him as he slowly tapped the Fortune, Dima was _glad_ it was him here, alone, with this human and not Juri. The threat from this man compared to Ar-Alhana was different, but it didn't make him any less eager to have Juri subjected to it.

"I'm going to flay that fur off your back," he said conversationally, and there were no false pleasantries in the way he said it, merely dark promise, "if we're careful, my wife could probably have enough for a decorative fur shawl. Or trim for a shawl, at least."

Like that. Dima snorted, though he had to suppress the hiss that wanted to crawl out, and looked out the window instead of down at Ar-Tumari.

"In fact, maybe we should start _right now_ , and when your companion is brought back here, he'll have a proper idea of what awaits him. Or perhaps he'll be moved enough by your plight you'll have to listen to him begging you to save yourself more pain and surrender your knowledge," Ar-Tumari said, turning the Fortune over in his hand, watching the sunlight play over smoothly rounded amber and cut topazes, catch in the carvings of the inner gold layer of the shell. 

Dima gritted his teeth, tension winding him tighter. If he did go through with that threat right at this moment, what would be the best course of action? All his mind supplied him with at that moment was his desire to pounce on the unpleasant human holding the Fortune of Spring like he actually owned it, like it was _his_.

"Guards!"

Dima twitched, tension freezing him in place even as he shifted his weight to leap.

The guards, so close already, had no trouble grabbing Dima and forcing him down to his knees. The slim little boy who'd handed Ziba her pardon earlier turned pale while he also scurried over towards a cabinet that, presumably, had what his shanhza would need to go through with his threat. 

Then the door behind them was slammed open and more guards poured in, stepping aside for the shahn, her captain of the guard, and Juri, who looked a little ashen past the brown tone of his skin. The last brought an unexpected lash of fury, considering that Dima had already thought of and acknowledged the risk that Juri could have fallen afoul of ill-tempered guards or been outright killed. Yet, seeing proof Juri was clearly not well but unable to actually spot any obvious injuries from here brought a snarl out of Dima.

" _What_ is going on here!" The shahn - Dima couldn't say he knew what her name was - shouted, her voice surprisingly authoritative for such a small body. She stopped, arms crossed over her chest and her dark eyes wandering around the room and then stopping at her brother. "This feli has brought serious charges of your intentions against me, Baki."

"And you would trust a couple foreign _cats_ before your brother, Muna?" He sounded so wounded, but his expression was tight. Not even offended, just a tightly wound tension that carved lines in what was, admittedly, at least a reasonably handsome face. Baki wasn't the best of actors, clearly. 

He was also fiddling with the Fortune, fingers searching over the surface while he cracked it open, just a hair. Trying to activate it, in the clear belief it was a weapon. To be fair, if it _had_ been one of the cannon Fortunes, everybody in front of him would've been turned into smoking crisps and the floor and walls scorched like from a great fire, the fine stones and marble cracked. It was not one of the Fortunes capable of doing this, however.

Luckily.

"You really think me so _blind_ , Baki?" Shahn Muna stared up at her brother, rounded softness turned implacable and her expression pinched, nearly sad, but there was something darkly furious in her eyes. "That they're foreign merely helps their case."

"I should think your affection for me should weigh a little more than that, dearest sister," Baki said, but there was no real warmth in the tight smile, and while his fumbling about the Fortune would give him none of the results he wanted, Dima had had enough. Besides, _if_ he by some accident managed to tap into the enchantment, he could feasibly escape, and while this was certainly not Dima's problem, he was feeling none too generous to Shanhza Baki Ar-Tumari.

"So I am going to--- No!"

Dima leaped, shoving Ar-Tumari away from the desk behind him and snatching the Fortune up, fingers sliding about the shell, then into the crack, touching the carvings on the inside. The magic shuddered, reacting to his touch, and extended outwards. Dima straightened up and smiled sharply down at the shahnza, teeth bared down to the gums. The air about Dima shimmered like pearl, a nacreous shell of gleaming energy, and Baki looked confused.

"There's thirteen enchanted fortunes," Juri said, though he sounded a little winded, staring down at the shahnza until Baki turned his head to glare at Juri. Muna was frowning, but said nothing. "Ten for shielding, three for attack. You were going to torture Dima for a Fortune that doesn't do what you thought."

Torture _him_? Oh, did Juri really think he wouldn't have been included in this? Glaring at him from across the shimmer currently covering him and the space between them, Dima couldn't even say why he was so annoyed by that thought.

"It _doesn't_!?" As composed and aristocratic as Baki had looked up until now, his expression had crumpled into incredulous fury... which also just proved he _had_ obtained the Fortune with regard for what he supposed its function was. Had obtained it with full knowledge that it _was_ indeed enchanted and was, potentially, capable of great destruction.

Surprisingly, the man didn't do something like toss himself either at Juri _or_ his sister, merely dragged nails down his face before he calmly stood up while Muna gestured to her guards, there being enough of them to keep her brother's men and her brother himself under guard and marched away. Dima deactivated the enchantment and, with the Fortune under one arm, stormed up to Juri, who flinched when he grabbed his arm, then leaned into him when he stepped closer. _Now_ , he could see where the injury was, as he looked Juri over; the whole back of the shirt was dark with blood. Looking up from Juri to the shahn, he stared narrowly at her.

"We'll get someone to deal with this, and then we can talk," she said with a frown, looking more at the Fortune in the crook of Dima's arm than either at him or Juri, and Dima hissed, then settled when Juri finally leaned all his weight on him and petted his arm.

"Shh, kitten."

Staring down at the crown of limp curls against his chest, Dima grimaced and shook his head.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to go home, give back things that don't belong to you, and say goodbye.

Juri was lucky his lung hadn't been pierced. If it had, he'd have been choking on his own blood instead of just... bleeding all over and turning the fur on his back crusty dark, bristly to the touch by the time the healer had come. But he hadn't lost enough blood for it to be lethal, and the wound was cleaned and stitched up neatly, so that was all Dima cared about. There was surely at least one magical healer in the shahn's employ somewhere, but that would have been more of a suspicious offer, when, in the end, Shahn Muna hadn't actually been in danger at the point they'd intervened.

Sure, they'd given her enough to _act on_ , but it wasn't as if Baki had had a real, usable weapon pointed at her in his study. He might have believed he had, but belief didn't turn an item that produced a shield into something that could be used as an offensive weapon. On the other hand, the Fortune was still a magical artefact, and a shield could be very useful. Dima was very aware of the woman's eyes on his back while the healer, looking somewhere between relieved and constipated, left the room.

"It is only a personal shield?" Her dialect of southern human tongue rolled heavily but was easily understandable, and Dima turned to look down at her, keeping one hand on Juri's shoulder where he lay on his front on the window seat, sleeping now. Shahn Muna was short and rounded and bled self-assured authority from every pore, the heavy gold thread and many ropes of braided, linked and jewelled gold bands on her head on top of the veil and over her shoulders and down the front somehow not looking like insecure bragging. It merely served to make her look bigger, the gold bright against the black layers of fine fabric.

"Yes." No, it wasn't. Alone, like this, a personal shield was all it could do, yes, but linked with the others... well. Much like the three Fortunes used as weapons were terrible on their own but not devastating, the real strength of the shielding Fortunes lay in being linked together. She didn't need to know that if she didn't already, however. Dima was certainly not going to tell her, and with the situation so much more under control, lying was even easier than it would have been had things been more precarious.

"Useful, to be sure, but not something I couldn't arrange on my own," she said with a soft huff, shaking her head and gesturing towards it with a negligent hand, "I won't make any effort for it, you may relax."

She fell silent then, but her dark eyes were sharp, and the look he got - they _both_ got - did nothing to reassure him. Dima cocked his head and angled an ear as he stared at her, waiting. There was no obvious distaste or condescension, but the weighted consideration was not to be discounted. In the end, though, she smiled - a small and reserved smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"If you would not mind waiting an hour or so, I shall arrange a pass so you may hopefully leave the country undisturbed, since there's no guarantee my brother's arrest will spread quickly enough his people will leave you in peace. Your... escort, also apparently left a horse outside the Rose Gate."

That, if nothing else, caused Dima to blink, then he snorted softly, nodding. Ziba had left Svala? Curious.

"A pass would be appreciated," he said, and managed to say it without insulting her, because she truly hadn't needed to offer a pass. It _was_ appreciated, since it'd hopefully make the last leg of the journey take less time. A lot less time, if they could use the actual road, _with_ a horse carrying them at least for short stretches every day, and not having to worry about soldiers taking them in. Though, Dima imagined the pass would be examined to high heaven and back every time they were stopped, but in the end even that would probably not add more time than if they'd have to creep around the wilderness. "I'll be waiting out by the horse."

Dima did not imagine that she looked a little relieved, hearing that, before she left with most of her guard. One was left to guide them back to the small gate they'd come through, Dima carrying a still-sleeping Juri. He woke up when they stepped out into the garden before the Rose Gate, and while he probably flushed, he said nothing about being set down. He was tempted to keep Juri in his arms until the servant with the pass came, but he helped him up on Svala instead, and it wasn't even three quarters of an hour later before a twitchy-looking servant came out the gate, and then just as quickly disappeared back inside after handing over the heavily embossed folded parchment.

Hopefully it would be convincing enough for anyone who stopped them and it said what had been promised, but there was no real way to check. Juri's halting grip on the local human dialect wouldn't really allow for a thorough check of a document that would use much more complicated language.

"Do you want to find an inn here who might admit us, or start north?" Dima asked as he took Svala's reins, having assured himself the bags were fastened behind the saddle and contained everything still (most importantly, the Fortune, even when he'd put it back in there himself). Juri grimaced and shook his head, still looking tired and the brown of his skin less vibrant than it should.

"Let's go."

Exactly his sentiment as well. They would not die sleeping out under the stars tonight, if they really didn't find some place to rest at before they stopped for the day. Juri might be a little more uncomfortable than usual, but Dima knew he wouldn't complain. Not to say he wouldn't rather have him in a proper bed, but it would be survivable, injuries or no.

At least it did take a lot less time to travel north, thanks to the pass giving them the ability to stay on the road. It was, in the end, still easier to mostly sleep outside, since while Juri had been able to navigate travelling Kurrata as a foreign feli, Dima still wearing the collar and cuffs meant there was a lot more scrutiny, not _just_ from soldiers who were either Baki's men or simply obeying an order like any other, but also from random people. He should have thought to demand the shahn have the collar and cuffs removed, but he'd been in such a hurry to leave it hadn't occurred to him. It was an inconvenience, but honestly, it was one he could deal with now that they could travel more easily, and it took only two weeks to follow the road straight north to the coastal port town of Ar-Kesh.

Now, what they had to do was not just find a ship, but a ship that would take them with payment being mostly delayed until arrival. In addition, it would be even better if he could find a ship going to one particular port. It shouldn't be impossible, since Varinth was one of the largest port towns on the southern coast of Spears' Rest, and the docks were, even if the summer was late, full of ships. They had luckily not gotten stuck here until autumn and winter weather would've turned the seas forbidding, but it was getting close.

"How are we even going to pay for passage?"

Dima glanced over Svala's head where Juri was walking on her other side, to make sure there would be no chance for pick-pockets to get at the bags secured to her back. He looked dubious as he stared at the veritable forest of masts, but aside from that, he definitely looked a lot better, and while he still winced while stretching too far, the wound had been healing cleanly.

"And what are we going to do with Svala?" Juri added, looking to the elegant curves and angles of Svala's head, reaching out to stroke her soft nose. Dima smiled briefly and shook his head.

"Your second question answers the first, Juri."

Juri looked up sharply, opened his mouth... and then huffed, ears flicking back in reluctant acceptance. Maybe it was crass, but it was their best bet. Svala was a very fine horse, clearly bred both for endurance and performance, and any captain who could take her on board, or sell her here in the city, even, would get a good price for her.

"Let's see if we can't find someone to take us north. Would Varinth work for you?"

Juri glanced up at him, for a moment looking very surprised - he supposed he did not usually _ask_ \- before he shrugged and smiled.

"Yeah, sure. It's not the closest port towards home for me, but we'll probably have a bigger chance one of these ships are going there, right?"

Nodding, Dima led them along the docks and, as long as he avoided ships that were clearly crewed by native kurratans, he did at least have no greater trouble being listened to than he had when he'd found a ship to take him to Kurrata in the first place. It still took more than two hours to actually find a ship that was going to Varinth _and_ would accept Svala as payment for their passage. He'd had to restrain himself from clawing up one man who'd not so subtly insinuated they could just pay with their bodies.

In the end, though, they had what they needed, which would cut down on time for Dima later; he'd left both more supplies and a companion in Varinth, and thus he'd be able to get all of that back and pay for another passage further north, all the way up to the northern coast of the Inner Sea. From there, it honestly rather depended on how late it was by then, and it might unfortunately serve him not to return home for winter. At least Csurrahan would, however unfortunately, not be a bad location to serve as winter lodging.

It all depended on other people, and what they might choose to do in the coming months, though things were certainly moving, now. With having regained this Fortune, there was only a small number of them still left unaccounted for. Not that he technically had obtained the Fortune Juri still had in his bag just yet, admittedly. Smiling wryly, Dima glanced down at Juri, who was staring out at the ocean, leaned against the hull and both ears and tail perked. The early dawn was soft on his hair and skin, the ocean still mostly dark while behind them, men moved around to prepare for leaving with the tide.

"You don't get seasick?" By the look of him, Dima would guess no, and Juri shook his head, looking over with an easy smile.

"Not at all. I admit I was a little worried when I got on the ship that took me to Kurrata, but it wasn't bad," he said, cocking his head. Watched Dima with a silent question clear in his eyes, lashes slightly lowered, and Dima ignored the former for the latter, because Juri really _shouldn't_ look at him like that.

"Fortunate," he said, reaching out to lay a hand at the small of Juri's back and turning him around - he went too, with no hint of complaint. By now there was another unvoiced question on his face, obvious by the tilt of his ears and the curl of his tail. He could ignore that, too, but it was one he was far more willing to actually answer, so he did. "We should get out of the way for the sailors, and since we have the use of the lone extra cabin, that will be somewhere to stow the bags, as well."

It also had only one bunk, but by now Dima certainly didn't mind that inconvenience, and when they got far enough Juri saw it, too, he laughed. Turned around with a tilt to his head and a far more _deliberate_ look than the one earlier. There was a brief brush of the tip of Juri's tail against his shin, too, and Dima might have purred, if he'd let himself.

"Have you gotten over your aversion for cuddling?" It was archly teasing, and Dima dumped the bag he was carrying without a thought and leaned down, sliding his hands down Juri's back - he seemed even smaller like this, when he got his hands on him, spreading them wide - all the way to his ass and gave a good squeeze. It wiped that look off Juri's face, traded in for a wide-eyed flash of ruddy heat under the sun-kissed brown and got a only slightly mangled chirp out of him.

"I think you'll find I'm pretty fond of cuddling when I'm not being unreasonably unpleasant." He could admit that much, at least, though he preferred to not draw much attention to his previous behaviour, since he _had_ both apologized and course corrected. Juri's brilliant smile, wide and soft-eyed, made it more than worth it. Small hands stroked up his arms to wrap around his shoulders and Juri leaned in, lips close enough to one ear they brushed against the fine fur there.

"Well, I guess I'll find out tonight?"

It wasn't that they hadn't slept close after the hot spring and before Ziba or after Shidesh, but they'd both been rather stubbornly focused on getting to the coast to enjoy the simple pleasure of it. Now, though, with nothing to truly do as there were others who were responsible for their current conveyance, there was honestly nothing _but_ some honest time to enjoy it. Time to learn more in general, of how they might be when marginally more relaxed - because, if nothing else, they had certainly learned each other rather well from the more than two months that'd passed since they met, and Juri had definitely seen him at some of his worst.

Some of, if not _all_.

"Why wait until tonight, kitten?" He turned his head so it was his turn to whisper into an ear, a little shiver running through the delicately pointed appendage at the soft rumble in his voice. "There's certainly nothing else to occupy ourselves with until the midday meal."

"Maybe _you_ don't, but I could think of othe--- _Dima_!" The protest came out on a laugh when Juri was hauled up and off the deck, and he wrapped his legs around Dima's waist obligingly for the few steps Dima needed to take to cross the cabin, certain even in the gentle sway of the deck under his feet. Not enough movement to be troubling him yet.

"Nothing _better_ to occupy ourselves with," Dima said pointedly as he dumped Juri onto the bunk - it was just wide enough it wouldn't be uncomfortable to share it, which was all they needed - and crawled on top of Juri, settling on top of his thighs. The ruddy tone was back to Juri's dark cheeks, just barely obvious, and there was interest starting to nudge Dima from below, which certainly didn't make his smile any less pleased - or less predatory.

"I could be convinced," Juri said, blithe and teasing, mismatched eyes sparkling, and the hands on Dima's thighs were both warm and strong. He glanced down and while the sight of them, small where they were spread out, was pleasing, Dima wanted something else. Something he wouldn't have had much thought for during heat, which was far too straightforward for more intricate play. Not that they had much things available here either, but it wasn't needed, not to start out with.

"I've seldom had need to convince anyone." Dima shook his head slowly, reaching out to undo the tie holding Juri's hair, watching auburn curls spill all over Juri's chest and shoulder, then down off it to the side, out onto the pillow. Took first one and then the second hand off his thighs, and stretched forward, pulling Juri's arms with him, until they were pressed against the hull at the head of the bunk, behind Juri's head. He considered the scrap of ribbon Juri used to tie his hair with, but... "Can you keep your hands here?"

"I..." Juri frowned, and Dima watched him flush deeper and darker, uncertainty warring with both curiosity and, if he wasn't wrong, unexpected arousal. It was clear Juri had never thought further beyond how the need of his heat played out, and that he might be the one to introduce him to that...

This was supposed to be _temporary_. Or had been supposed to be, anyway. Dima found himself extremely reluctant to consider letting go so easily come arrival back in Varinth. Maybe there was a way to accommodate both his previous plans and the future from that, and _this_ , at least to give a chance to see if it could work at all beyond the immediate situation this journey had introduced.

"... Okay. I, uh, can do that." Juri's hesitation slowly firmed into certainty, and Dima didn't care to restrain the purring that started up. Not when Juri went nearly liquid under him, aside from one very firm point, and the blush remained, his ears perked and curls a spilled crown around him. Yes, he definitely planned to take his time, this time. It'd be worth it.

***  
The passage across the Middle Sea was definitely the most pleasant part of the journey, all in all. For _Juri_ , anyway. He couldn't help but notice that any time the sea turned even a little bit rough, Dima didn't just look awkwardly tense, he definitely took on a slightly off shade to his lightly tanned skin. Not that he didn't fight tooth and nail to keep both his composure and his dignity, which, admittedly, he mostly managed to do. It was pretty impressive, really, if a little ridiculous.

Juri decided against saying anything about it, no matter how much he really wanted to, and just let himself enjoy the trip. There were things he should be thinking of, he knew. He could admit he was avoiding them, all the way up to where they stepped onto the dock in Varinth and were swallowed up by the crowd.

"Juri," Dima said, a hand on his shoulder and leading him through the flow of people as they entered a small square, a fountain in the middle of it, which they stopped by, "can you wait here for me? I'll be back shortly."

He was tempted to ask why he couldn't come along, but bit down on the question and shrugged instead, waving Dima away with a smile. One he wasn't sure Dima had believed, but if nothing else... Sitting down on the edge of the fountain's basin, ignoring the spray of water catching in his hair and decorating his back, Juri trapped his bag between the stones of the basin and his legs, and watched the crowd move around him in the early afternoon.

This was it.

Juri found he didn't want it to be, but what else was there to expect? Some part of him, unpleasantly insecure, wondered if Dima would simply take this opportunity to leave, find some place to hole up after he'd secured passage further north. Sighing, Juri leaned back, tipping his head backwards until he was seeing the top of the fountain's spray and the sky, edges of roofs at the corner of his vision. Dima wouldn't do that. He _would_ , at least, offer some sort of goodbye. It was just...

He didn't want it to be goodbye. But hell, there was a literal continent between them, and despite his excursion south into Kurrata, Juri didn't usually travel particularly far from home. It'd been an exception... and even if it hadn't been, there was still the probable attitudes he might be met with among the tribes. If Dima would even want him to come north next year, that was.

Besides all of that, there was then the very last thing he had been avoiding to think about. The Fortune of Spring. Was there any reason _not_ to give it to Dima, or simply let him take it if Juri didn't pre-empt him and offer it? Because of course he would take it, one way or another... And was that so wrong? Dima could definitely be an asshole, but he'd proven himself better than he'd seemed at the beginning, and the Thirteen Fortunes of Spring _had_ come from the northern tribes. They did belong to them, didn't they? And it wasn't one of the weapon Fortunes either.

Frowning up at the sky, Juri wondered then, as he'd never done before, where the others were. Who had them, and were those people _safe_ to leave such things in their hands? Not that that really gave him any direction for what he should do about and with the one currently in his own bag. Keeping it was a ridiculous idea...

"Juri?"

Twitching, his tail smacking into the basin, Juri straightened and smiled, too wide, and definitely a little awkwardly.

"Oh, hey---" Cutting himself off, he looked away and then back up at Dima. Took the unnecessarily offered hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. "Dima..."

White, black-striped ears cocked and Dima raised an eyebrow, watching him with bright, vivid blue eyes, and Juri's throat closed up.

"Uh, never mind... It's pretty late, to do anything about going anywhere today, isn't it?" Was he procrastinating? He sure was! But he also hoped to have just one more evening, at least. Dima's inquiring expression didn't exactly disappear, but it softened, and there was a tiny smile on his face as fingertips stroked Juri's cheek and brushed a couple curls away.

"I have acquired a room for the evening, so I'm glad I don't have to convince you it _is_ too late to go anywhere today. This way." Dima turned around with self-assured ease, and Juri was thankful for it, right then. All he had to do was follow Dima's long, swaying tail to the inn. Dima proved he was very determined about keeping him distracted, and Juri was, again, thankful, but later, late enough he _could_ take the excuse to just turn over and sleep, Juri frowned into the shadowed room, lit only by the oil lamp on the bedside table, and tipped his head back to peer up at Dima upside down.

"Dima---"

"Tomorrow, kitten. I want you to listen, right now," Dima said, and Juri might have protested if he wasn't relieved Dima was giving him another excuse to put things aside for later. Besides, the hesitant determination on Dima's face was pretty distracting on its own. What he was supposed to listen to, he didn't need to ask.

The song was quiet, and simple - a lullaby, nothing more than that, but that meant Dima had grown up hearing it, and it didn't matter it was something as small as that. Juri listened to the words, understanding about half of them, then listened to the tune Dima hummed after he'd sung the song, giving him something he would more easily be able to recreate the lullaby with later, on his flute.

It also ended up serving its intended purpose, no matter how embarrassing that was, because Dima sung it again, a soft rumble of it, in Juri's ear, and he had no defense against it. He fell asleep without asking what he'd intended to.

Next morning found them early - way, way too early, but Dima had found a ship to start his journey north that would leave with the morning tide - outside the inn. Juri still procrastinating by doing a last inventory, aware of the extra weight in his bag as well as the _additional_ extra weight. The pouch he kept his money in was definitely heavier than it'd been yesterday, but putting up a fight about that wasn't worth it. It'd help him restock for the last stretch home.

It was silent between them, but Juri could feel the charge in the air. It was just a question of who would break it first. He almost fell forward off the bench he was sitting on when Dima did speak up, no matter how much he'd half expected it.

"What are you going to do with that?" Dima stood leaned against the wall beside the bench, shoulder against the cool stone and hip cocked, arms crossed over his chest. The sun was just barely warming up the area around his head, buttery and soft. Juri knew exactly what Dima meant and, after a beat, fished the Fortune out of his bag, turning it over in his hands. Even out of direct sunlight, the gems caught what little light there was, throwing sparks of light all over.

"... Not sure, actually. I wasn't ever going to keep it, but..." He still couldn't decide. He was half expecting Dima to reach out and simply pluck it from his hands. He didn't. He chose another angle of attack, instead.

"Give it to me."

Juri looked up, eyebrows raised and trying to pretend like he didn't know it would have come to this no matter what, and met Dima's pale, serious eyes. His generous mouth was set in a tense line, but his eyebrows were flat and smooth, not knitted against his high forehead. He hadn't moved either, but there was tension in his shoulders, down into his solid arms. Juri wondered _why_ he was so tense. Did he think he'd have to wrestle it from him?

... Well, months ago, he would have. But now... not so much. Juri still knew he had at least one question to ask before he handed the Fortune over, though.

"... Why?"

"It belongs to my people, like you well know." Dima shrugged, straightening up and coming over to stand in front of Juri, his neck and wrists finally free of the collar and cuffs, which weirdly enough seemed to make seem him less threatening, even if he certainly wasn't actually any less dangerous. Maybe it was because the lack of the dark iron around pale skin and fur made the muscles less obvious. "I can even tell you who that egg was made by, and for which tribe leader, and whom of their family they gave it to."

Dima's brief smile was sharp but bright, and it softened the curve of his eyes.

"More than that though, it can be used for our protection... for the protection of any felin." The thin line of Dima's eyebrows rose up, and Juri snorted.

" _All_ felin? Even those of us who have to live among other people?" He paused, shifting the egg between his hands, then just turning it around in his grip, watching winks of light light up the gems from the inside, sparks of colour and fire. "Even those like me?" 

He couldn't help the way his voice dropped, but well... comparatively, it wasn't _that_ long ago since Dima had looked at him with condescension and disgust, and that less because he was 'tamed' and more because he was a half-breed. Dima sighed, and Juri didn't flinch away from the hand that curled up to fit under his chin, a large thumb and forefinger gently grabbing it and tilting his head up.

"I see you're not going to let me just say 'yes, you too', and get away with it, so, yes, _all_. Even those _like you_." The smile, as exasperated as it was, lit a candle in Juri's chest and he found himself smiling as well.

"Okay."

It seemed it should feel more... weighted, to stand up and hand the Fortune over. Dima disappeared it into a newly purchased pack, and Juri felt nothing but reluctance that had nothing to do with the Fortune of Spring. Because this really was it. They'd gotten home - well, not _home_ home, for either of them, but close enough - and now it was only the last stretch left. Dima had a ship and tide to catch, and he might still not make it far enough north in time to outrun the first storms home. Juri hoped he would.

"I can't convince you to let me take _you_ with me, too?" The smile turned into a grin, Dima's eyes gaining a mischievous, nearly threatening glitter as he cocked his head, shadows turning them dark as he leaned in slightly, looming over Juri. Laughing now, Juri shook his head and smacked the hand still holding his chin away. He didn't feel any less reluctant, but the flutter in his stomach was a welcome distraction. Dima actually did want him to go north. At least enough to teasingly threaten him with it.

"This close to autumn? I want to visit my family, so no. And besides, didn't you say it was a good idea I didn't choose to go north?"

Dima snorted softly, shaking his head like Juri demurring was a great offense and sorrow, but the hand that came back to cradle Juri's face, tipping it up again as Dima leaned down, was gentle.

"It would be different if you were _invited_ , Juri. But, perhaps... it's for the best. For now," Dima murmured right before their lips met, and Juri's question was swallowed and then forgotten thanks to the warm, clever slide of Dima's lips against his, thanks to the heat his tongue stoked as the kiss deepened. 

Juri was breathless when Dima pulled away, and with a soft noise of impatient protest, he pulled Dima back down by his shirt, kissing him until he had no air, until not even breathing through his nose was enough, and he was finally obliged to let go. Dima's large hand slid down his face to his shoulder, right at the join between shoulder and neck. Squeezed gently, his large hand spread like a necklace... or a collar, and Juri shivered with more than trying to catch air for his lungs. 

"But, if you tell me where you live, I might be able to arrange some way of keeping in touch. And I'll expect you to come north for next year's heat."

"What... really?" Which part was he even responding to? Juri didn't have a clue as he stared, his insides turning from a warm knot into a thousand butterflies and then into a lead weight. Did he mean that, and not _just_ to tease with it? It would be so simple, so _easy_ to let this be it, just a couple months of indiscretion, because it wasn't as if _he_ would have any way to contact Dima before - if - he went north. That Dima could arrange it, he would believe, and Juri knew there were ways to do it, too. It usually required some pretty expensive and fancy enchantments, but there _were_ ways, and he'd have to be practically dead if he hadn't figured out by now that Dima usually had access to more resources than he would on a good day. Dima just smiled a little, pressing his hand down slightly where it rested against Juri's throat, tip of his thumb against the hollow of his throat, and arched an eyebrow. "Uh--- Y-yeah. Sure."

Still, even as he smiled and gave Dima enough to hopefully be able to work with to send his probable gift to his home, Juri couldn't help the uncertain weight on his heart, which didn't lighten even as Dima leaned down again, a soft look on his face and brushed their lips together again before he straightened up. 

"Dima---" Juri slapped a hand on top of the one Dima still had on his shoulder, and he looked down, ears cocked along with raised eyebrow. "This... You mean it?"

"If I've gotten this far, I'm not going to let you go _now_ , Juri," Dima said, and for once the sneer wasn't meant to hurt him, just an expression of offended exasperation that almost made Juri smile instead, "I am still of half a mind to simply take you with me, and you're not helping your cause by acting like this, kitten. You really shouldn't look at me like that if you don't want to delay your visit home by more than a year."

The threat was very real, real enough Juri could see the earlier teasing had been real too. Dima had meant what he'd said, and Juri knew he probably shouldn't feel a creeping heat of weird _want_ from it, but it warmed his thorny stomach and he finally found a laugh, shaking his head.

"Okay, okay. Sorry."

He dropped his hand just as Dima leaned in again and kissed his ear, lips soft against the fur. Then he stepped away, his hand trailing down Juri's shoulder and arm, until he was out of reach for even their fingertips to touch.

"May the winds favour you and the skies stay clear." There was one, firm wave of Dima's hand, and then he turned, quickly crossing the cobblestoned area in front of the inn to the entrance out onto the road, and turned down it. Snagging his bags up, Juri dashed after but stopped at the gate. Didn't call him back, even if he definitely wanted to.

The rising light caught in Dima's pale fur, turning the white nearly blinding and the dark stripes looking almost like they were floating against the paleness. The pack swung on his back, a counterpoint to his long, strong tail, and Juri stood there until Dima turned down another road and abruptly disappeared from view.

With a sigh, Juri shouldered his own bags, cast a glance up at the sky and judged it to be late enough at least some stalls and shops would hopefully be open so he could deal with buying some provisions, and set about making his way home.

**Author's Note:**

> A map for your convenience:  
> 


End file.
